Wolf Hunt
by Lady Chal
Summary: When tragedy strikes Santini Air, suspicion falls upon new faces at the Firm and it's up to Caitlin to see String's nephew to safety. Spoilers for
1. Default Chapter

**Wolf Hunt**

**By Lady Chal**

**Disclaimer:**

All Characters are the property and genius of Donald Bellisario, who hopefully won't sue me for playing with them a while. The exception to this being Melvin Frohicke, who briefly jumped ship from Chris Carter and the X-Files to take a detour tending bar outside a dinky airfield in the California desert in 1986. (But hey, considering Frohicke's questionable background, it's not all _that impossible, is it?) The characters of Steve and Brenda Lansing belong to me._

**Rating: PG -13 (mild language)**

**Classification: Adventure / Character Death**

**Spoilers: Everything up through the end of the 3rd season and the opening of Season 4.**

**Authors Notes: I still have never seen an episode of the fourth season, but have found out enough about it on some of the wonderful Airwolf fan sites out there to figure out what it was about. I confess I was never quite happy with the way they handled the cast changes, --especially Dom and String.  I'm still in denial, although I suppose it does make for a nice dose of tragedy. But what really bugged me was the way they left Caitlin and Li hanging out there without any mention. What happened to them? Like Archangel, I never believed they would go without a fight. So, this is my attempt at explaining a few of those unanswered questions from that first fourth season episode within the framework of the show's cannon. My apologies if I've gotten some details wrong. –Like I said, I've never actually seen the fourth season.**

**Summary: (Missing sub-plot for "Black Jack")When a tragedy strikes Santini Air, suspicion falls upon new faces at the Firm and Caitlin must carry out Hawke's final wish to see his nephew to safety.**

**Starring:**

Jean Bruce Scott as Caitlin O'Shaughnessy

Jan Michael Vincent as Stringfellow Hawke

Ernest Borgnine as Dominic Santini

Michelle Scarabelli as Josephine Santini

Geraint Wyn Davies as Maj. Mike Rivers

Anthony Sherwood as Jason Locke

John Dye as Doc Gifford

**Guest Starring:**

Tom Braidwood as Melvin

Robert Patrick as Steve Lansing

Kathleen York as Brenda Lansing

Scott Glenn as Calvin Mackenzie

Kieran Culkin as Stevie

**Prologue: I'll Be Seeing You**

_Tuesday, July 22, 1986___

_Fort Stewart__, __Georgia___

The oppressive August heat slammed into Caitlin O'Shaughnessy like a wall as she exited from the relative cool of the dining hall into the Georgia afternoon. The noon weather report had claimed it was only 95 degrees, but in the still and muggy air it felt like a hundred and ten. She was used to hot weather, having lived most of her life in the dry plains of west Texas, and most recently, in California, but her three week stay in Georgia had her convinced of the old adage. It's not the heat, she thought glumly. It's the humidity.

            She strode decisively across the parade ground towards the PX, where a bank of pay phones and more air conditioning awaited. She hadn't talked to Dom or String in nearly a week, and it wouldn't hurt to remind them that someone would need to pick her up when the Guard unit arrived back home in California on Saturday. She smiled as she fished around in her pocket for change. No doubt Dom would still be griping about her being gone this long. Heck, he griped when she was called away for weekend maneuvers, let alone the three-week intensive training she'd been ordered on this time. She knew he understood, though. National Guard duty was the price she'd had to pay for her pilot's license. She would have never been able to afford the flying lessons or training on her own. Thus far, it hadn't cost her anything but her time and the truth of the matter was that she enjoyed it.

            Up until she'd met Dom and String, flying choppers for the Guard's med-evac unit was the most exciting thing she'd ever done. Understandable, when her pilot's job with the Pope County Sheriff's department had amounted to little more than being a "flying meter-maid." Then Stringfellow Hawke had come along and changed all that. The moment he had swooped in and rescued her from Sheriff Bogan and his goons, she had known her flying-meter maid days were numbered. She wouldn't be satisfied until she'd tracked down the mysterious Hawke and his big black chopper. 

            She quickly shut the door on the path her thoughts had taken as she hurried into the cool of the PX. No one was supposed to know about the Lady, and it was easier to keep the secret if she didn't think about it. Lately though, it hadn't been easy. The med-evac units were in the process of switching over from the old Hueys to Black Hawks, and the three-week training session had been ordered to familiarize all pilots with the complexities of the new machine. Caitlin had sailed through the course with ease. She was already quite familiar with the Black Hawk type chopper, from the wheeled landing gear to the computerized console and automated on-board systems. If she closed her eyes with her hand on the stick, she could almost imagine herself in the Lady, but all similarities ended there. The engines, the speed and handling, and automated systems were nothing compared to the Lady's capabilities. Compared to Airwolf, the military Black Hawk she'd been assigned was a child's toy.

            She sighed, disgusted with herself as she reached the bank of phones and dropped her change into the nearest one. So much for not thinking about things she shouldn't be thinking about. She punched in the number for the hangar, and waited an eternal twelve rings before a familiar voice came on the line.

            "Santini Air."

            "Hey, Dom, it's me. How are things going out there?"

            "Kate!" Dominic Santini's voice boomed with warmth and jubilation, "Hey kiddo! I been startin' to think you dropped off the face of the earth. A couple more days and I would have worried that you crashed or something."

            "A couple more days and I'll be halfway home." Caitlin said wistfully. "Believe me; I can't wait to get back. I think I've had more than enough of the beautiful state of Georgia."

            Dom chuckled. "Oh yeah? Well, we'll be glad to have you back. String and I have been absolutely swamped! Between doing two movies and covering charter flights for one of the directors, we've barely had our feet on the ground. If Archangel up and decides to send us out on another errand, we'll really be up a creek."

            Caitlin sighed. "Ah, Dom I'm sorry. I know this really put you in a pinch, but you know I couldn't get out of it. I only have another year of this and Uncle Sam and I will be square. Don't worry though; I'll be back before you know it."

            "It's ok, Katie." Dom assured her. "We're making do. My niece Josie came home to visit for a couple weeks and has been helping us out. In fact, String's taking her up in the Ranger right now to show her the layout for tomorrow's shoot. She's gonna stick around a couple more weeks and help us dig out from all these bookings."

            "That's great, Dom. With both of us women on the job we'll get you dug out in no time." Caitlin said, hoping the enthusiasm she put in her voice sounded sincere. She hadn't had a great deal of luck in getting along with the Santini women. She could only hope that Dom's other relative was more personable than Holly had been. –Especially considering Holly had nearly killed her not once, but three times.

            "Listen, Dom." Caitlin said, bringing him back to the subject at hand. "We're going to be back at Andrews on Saturday. I can catch a ride over to Reilly's field. Can you send somebody to pick me up, say around 4:00?"

            "Sure thing, kiddo, I'll do it myself." Dom said. She could hear him slamming desk drawers and knew that he was fishing around for a pencil to jot a note in the calendar. "So tell me," he said, sounding only half distracted. "How do you like flying those fancy new whirly-birds?"

            "They're nice." She said honestly, "Nicer than the Hueys anyway, but they're nothing like our girl."

            "Ahh.." Dom chuckled warmly. "Nothing is, Kiddo. Nothing is."

            She could hear the faint murmur of a distant voice in the background and the slamming of the heavy, metal access door. 

            "Yeah, be right there!" Dom's voice was loud but muffled as he clamped his hand over the mouthpiece and then cleared as he spoke again to her. "Listen, Kate, I gotta go. The delivery guy's here with a package I gotta sign for. Boy, I sure hope it's those parts for the Stearman. We're two days overdue on the shoot already and if we don't get that bird up in the air, the director's gonna find another pilot."

            Caitlin smiled, she had a pretty good idea of what String was going to be doing tonight, and he wasn't going to be thrilled about it. The Stearman was definitely not his favorite plane to work on. "All right Dom. Take care and fly straight. I'll be seeing you guys on Saturday."

            "Saturday, Katie. 4:00 PM sharp. I'll be waiting." Dom assured her.


	2. Chapter One: Waiting

Title: Wolf Hunt (continued)

Author: Lady Chal

Rating: PG-13 (mild language)

Classification: Angst/Adventure, implied Caitlin/String

Disclaimer: They don't belong to me, wish they did!

**********

**Chapter One: Waiting**

_Saturday, July 26, 1986___

_Reilly's Airfield_

_4:15 PM___

            Naturally, he was late. Caitlin dropped her heavy duffle bag next to the clean, but shabby lunch counter and took a seat on a worn, red stool. Spinning around, she gazed out the large plate glass windows at the multitude of brightly colored aircraft parked on the grounds of Reilly Field. There were scores of Cessnas and other small aircraft. A few helicopters and even a couple old bi-planes, but no familiar white Jet Ranger emblazoned with the bold stars and stripes of Santini Air. No camouflage painted 500, either. Not even a damned bright yellow Stearman.

            She sighed and picked up a laminated menu. She might as well eat, she supposed. It had been a long flight from Georgia, and the overcooked military food hadn't really agreed with her. Not that she was sure the food from the lunch counter would be much better, but a cup of coffee and a tuna salad sandwich did seem to hold a certain appeal.

            The coffee and the sandwich came and went with no sign of Dom or String and she began to be irritated. No doubt the movie shoot had run long and they'd not thought to at least send Everett down with a jeep. Two more cups of coffee came and went and she wavered on the point of aggravation, it was tempered, however, by a ticklish, edgy feeling at the back of her neck. It wasn't like Dom or String to forget an appointment, no matter how busy they were, and if they really were that busy, they damn sure wouldn't forget to pick up the hired help. She sorted through the change she'd been intending to tip the waitress with, and extracted a quarter and a dime. Something wasn't right.

            There was a payphone at the other end of the lunch counter, just inside the door, and she used it to dial the hangar at Santini Air. She let it ring the customary twelve rings, knowing that if the guys were in the middle of an engine job or halfway across the hangar it would take them that long to get the phone. No one picked up. She let it ring fifteen. She let it ring twenty. The soft and steady purr seemed to ring ominously in the earpiece. The recorded voice of the operator, formal and pleasant informed her that the party was not answering and to please try again. She did. This time she dialed the office number. It rang five times and the machine picked up. Dom's voice came on, stiff and uncomfortable –as he always was with "newfangled technology" answering machines or otherwise. She listened as he rattled off the office hours and the services Santini Air provided before finishing "So leave a message after the beep and we'll get back to ya as soon as we figure out how to work this blasted machine."

            "Hey guys, it's me." She began, and paused, half hoping someone would pick up. "I'm still waiting for my lift, but I haven't seen hide nor hair of y'all. Listen, the field closes at eight, and if I don't catch a ride out of here by then I'll be stuck here all night. I am assuming something must have come up, so I'm gonna walk down to Annie's and see if I can find somebody I know and hitch a ride back. If you get this before I find a ride, try calling either here at the field or down to Annie's and let me know what's up. Either way, I guess I'll see you tonight…Bye." She added hastily and hung up.

            Shouldering her duffle bag, she strode out of the lunch counter, out the drive of the air field, and across the road and down to Annie's. It was a short walk to the bar, less than a tenth of a mile, but long enough to for the air-controller to observe from his tower if the pilots walking back really were sober enough to fly, and if they weren't, the lunch counter and gallons of black coffee were strategically positioned on the way.

            The wind picked up a little as she hiked down the road, blowing her hair about into her face and pelting her cheeks with little bits of sand. She squinted at the darkening sky. It looked like rain. The weather channel, which ran continuously in the lunch counter, had reported a storm front moving in off the Pacific an hour or two ago, but it was mostly mild showers. It was certainly nothing bad enough to stop flights. There were only a couple of cars parked on the graveled lot outside of Annie's, but Kate still found a handful of patrons nursing beers in booths or at the bar as she walked through the smoke tinted double doors and into the tap room. Most of them, she knew, had flown rather than driven to the tiny little lounge. They were charter pilots, mostly, just staying over for a night on their way to anywhere but here. She saw no one that she recognized as she dumped her bag into a booth and walked over to the bar.

            "Hey Melvin," she greeted the squat, gnome faced little man idly polishing glasses behind the bar.

            "Hey Kate," the bartender returned, setting down a glass and bracing both hands on the scarred wooden counter. "What will it be?"

            "Iced tea." She replied.

            "Iced tea," he muttered, shaking his head. "You've got to be about the only tee-totaling regular we've got. When are gonna order a real drink.?"  
            Caitlin grinned at him. "When you start makin' em, cowboy. I know Annie has you water the booze."

            "Have to," he replied, pulling a pitcher of tea from the mini fridge behind the bar, "or else one of these damn fools will kill themselves before they run out of drinking money."

            He placed a paper coaster down in front of her and carefully set the glass upon it. "String or Dom with you?"

            Kate shook her head. "No, and I'm looking for them. Dom was supposed to pick me up an hour ago. They may call here looking for me. I left them a message for them at the office telling them I'd be down here trying to score a ride home." She glanced hopefully around the room, "You know if anybody here is heading back to Van Nuys?"

            Melvin shook his head. "Not right now. You might stick around a bit though. Lance flew through morning on his way to Tijuana.  He grabbed breakfast here and refueled. Said he was flying some business types down for a day trip and was planning on coming back tonight. Only stands to reason he'd grab dinner and gas up here too."

            Caitlin brightened at this small piece of good news. Steve "Lance" Lansing's executive charter business also operated out of Van Nuys, the same home field as Santini Air. If Melvin was right, she could still be home before dark and ride in style to boot. If Santini's craft of choice was helicopters, Lansing's was Learjets. She could almost feel the leather seats wrapping around her for a quick and cozy hop home.

            She grabbed the glass and the coaster and shot the bartender a grateful look. "Well, I'm gonna grab that corner booth and maybe a catnap. If the guys call, let me know, and if Lance shows up, don't let him leave without me, ok?"

            Melvin nodded and returned to polishing his glasses. Caitlin retreated to the booth, drank her tea, and positioned herself comfortably enough to doze.

            She wasn't entirely sure how long she'd been there. Maybe half an hour, maybe more, when she was jolted awake by a gentle shake of her shoulder. "Hey, Sleeping Beauty."

            She opened her eyes and stared blearily at the lean, rugged figure towering over her. For a moment, she thought it was String, but the voice was wrong, a shade deeper with a hint of a drawl. She wiped a hand across her tired eyes and her vision cleared to reveal the grinning countenance of Steve Lansing.

            "Lance," she said quickly, straightening from her dozing position and attempting to stifle a yawn.

            He quirked one dark auburn brow at her and jerked a thumb in the direction of the bar. "The gnome says you need a ride."

            "Yeah," she muttered, motioning him towards the open seat across from her. "String and Dom stood me up. They were supposed to pick me up ages ago. They never showed."

            She frowned at her watch. It was a quarter 'til six. "I know they were busy, but frankly, I'm a little worried."

            Lance shrugged. "Something probably came up. I know they've been swamped this week, what with their shooting schedules and all."

            Caitlin shook her head, unable to shake the tightening sense of unease. "I'm sure you're right. I know Dom said they were going crazy, but still…" she shook her head, "It's just not like either one of them to forget."

            Lance grinned. "Ah, don't sweat it. I'll have you back before they even realized they forgot. The jet's twice as fast as one of Santini's choppers. Who knows, maybe you'll like it so much you'll decide you want to fly for me instead."

            Caitlin grinned at him. "Nah, I'd hate to be that bored."

            Lance opened his mouth for a rebuttal, but never got it out.  The sudden rise in the volume from the television above the bar surprised them both and they looked up just as the bartender called to them across the room.

            "Hey, guys, I think you better see this. It looks like Van Nuys."

            The television was not a large one, and from her seat across the room, she almost had to squint to see the picture. It was an aerial shot of a group of buildings and rolling smoke. It took her half a second to realize what she was looking at, even as the announcer's voice confirmed her conclusion.

            "A helicopter crash claimed the life of one man and injured two others today at Van Nuys field…" the newscaster's voice droned on, but Caitlin barely registered the words as she gazed at the screen, overlaying and matching the image with one she had seen every time she took off or landed a chopper.

            It was the air field. Oh, God. It was Santini Air. The screen flashed then to the familiar tan hangar with the Stars and Stripes logo emblazoned over the door, then cut to the charred and smoking hulk of a Jet Ranger chopper. The tension that had been lying in her stomach all afternoon roiled and tightened into a churning nausea. _He was dead. They were dead. Oh, God. Oh God. Oh God._

            She was only dimly aware of Lance standing over her now, gripping her shoulder tightly, speaking to her, his face so pale that she wondered what her own must look like. He continued to speak to her, but she couldn't make sense of the words. _One man was dead. Oh, God. Which, one? Oh, God. Did it matter? No. Yes. Oh, God. Which one?_

            She could hear the television and Lance's voice, all running together like white noise through the chaos of her mind. Only one sound set itself apart from them, long and steady and plaintive until she was able to discern it as the ringing telephone. She latched on to the sound and counted the rings. One, two, three… Four, five, six… Seven, eight, nine… Ten… Eleven… Twelve…

            It ended abruptly with Melvin's terse hello, and then silence as he listened to the caller at the other end of the line. Then more silence, as he put the phone against his chest and turned quietly to face her.

            "Caitlin, it's for you."

            Part of her wanted to run to the phone, tear it from Melvin's hands and seek her answers and comfort from whoever it was at the other end of the line. The other part of her wanted to turn and run out the door, as fast and far away from it as possible. She settled for a slow and measured pace to the bar. Melvin flipped up the pass through door, allowing her entrance to the back. He didn't hand her the phone, but swung his head towards a door on the left hand side. 

            "Go ahead and take it in Annie's office if you like."

            She nodded and made her way into the tiny office. It was dark, except for the dim gray light that filtered through the solitary window. She could barely make out the shapes and shadows of the office. A black metal filing cabinet, a scarred gray desk with a white office phone placed neatly on one corner. She gingerly lifted the receiver and spoke into it.

            "H—Hello?"

            "Kate?"

            Her knees seemed to disintegrate to jelly at the sound of Everett Mitchell's voice. It was tired, and raw, and… it wasn't one of the ones she had hoped to hear. She collapsed into the office chair only a half second after Lance –who had followed her into the office—shoved it beneath her.

            "Which one?" she whispered, hoarsely

            "Dom." Everett choked. "String's in intensive care. They don't know if he'll make it."

            There was silence for a moment, and then the mechanic said softly. "I saw it blow, and I couldn't do a damn thing to save them, but pick up the phone."

            "I know." The words choked in her throat. "I just saw it on the news."

            "God, Caitlin. I'm sorry you heard it like that." Everett drew a deep, shuddering breath. "I didn't even think about you coming in today. I've been at the hospital all afternoon with Dom's niece, Jo. I just came in and found your message, and I…" He broke off, swearing softly in frustration. "I don't even have a damn plane to go get you in. God, Caitlin, I'm sorry."

            "No," she sniffed, shaking her head. "No, it's all right. I – I understand." She found her own breath catching on a sob. "It's just, not knowing. Until you called, I didn't know for sure."

She drew a deep breath, and attempted to pull herself together. "Listen, Lance is here at Annie's with me. He's going to bring me home, and I'll catch a cab over to the hospital."

"The hell you are," Lansing said softly, "Brenda and I will drive you."

She nodded to him, and continued speaking to Everett. "What hospital is he in?"

"Cedars." Everett replied, and then waited while she found a pen and paper before rattling off the room number. She scribbled it down. She said goodbye. The line clicked dead. He was gone. _Dom was gone… and maybe String, too. God, Girl you have to get a grip!_

She hung up the phone carefully, as if it would explode. In truth, she wasn't so damn sure it wouldn't. She drew a deep breath, and glanced out the window. Her image was reflected faintly there, ghastly pale in the dull gray of the glass. She suddenly became aware of the shadow in the doorway, standing quiet, one hand braced against the frame. Lansing. She'd nearly forgotten him.

"Lance?" She said softly, "Could you go and tell Melvin to make me a drink? – A real one?"

"Sure thing, Kate." He nodded briskly and turned back to the bar. She scooted the chair over towards the door and turned the lock before kicking it shut with her foot. Only then did she allow herself to cry. Dominic Santini was dead. Stringfellow Hawke was dying, and nothing would ever be the same again.

"Kate?" There was a gentle tap on the door. Drying her eyes on the tail of her shirt, she opened it to admit Lance and the drink he proffered. Actually, it was two glasses of ice and a bottle of Johnny Walker tucked under his arm.

            He set down the glasses and the bottle on the desk and wrapped a brotherly arm around her, burying her face into the warm leather of his jacket. "Was it Dom?" he asked softly.

            She nodded, sniffling. "Yeah, and String. That was Everett. He's pretty shook up."

            Lance nodded. "I imagine," he said grimly. 

He sat her back down in the chair, cracked the seal on the whiskey and poured a large quantity of the amber liquid into one of the glasses and set it before her. He poured slightly less for himself. Took a well rounded swallow and set the glass back down. Then he crouched down before her, his big hands resting on the arms of her chair. 

"Look," he said, "I know this has got to be hell for you. I'll call Brandy, she probably already knows all about it by now. She'll meet us at the airfield. You should come and stay with us tonight. I don't think it's a good idea for you to be alone."

She laughed hollowly. "God, Lance. I've been on a three week tour of Guard duty. I don't even have a change of clean clothes to my name."

"All the more reason you should come home with us," Lance reasoned with incomprehensible logic. "You're a wreck."

"I have to go to the hospital." She protested.

"I know." He said firmly. "And you're not going alone."

She locked gazes with him for one stubborn moment and then nodded her head in acceptance. He rose to his feet then and pulled her from the chair. "Come on, let's get over to the strip. They should have the plane refueled by now. If we leave right away, we can be back at Van Nuys in half an hour.

"Thank you, Lance." She said quietly. "I don't know what I'd do if you hadn't been here tonight."

He shot her a gentle grin. "Don't sweat it, Red. That's what friends are for."


	3. Chapter Two: No Accident

Title: Wolf Hunt (continued)

Author: Lady Chal

Rating: PG-13 (mild language)

Classification: Angst/Adventure, implied Caitlin/String

Disclaimer: They don't belong to me, wish they did!

*************

**Chapter Two: No Accident**

True to his word, they touched down at Van Nuys within the hour. Brenda Lansing was waiting for them, and within a matter of minutes, she had whisked them away from the airfield and through the heavy knot of Saturday night traffic to the hospital. Brenda stopped the black Blazer in front of the emergency room exit to allow Caitlin and Lance to get out. 

"You guys go on in, I'll go park this thing."

Caitlin eyed the ominous looking shadows of the parking ramp ahead. "Not after dark, you don't." She said. "I don't want you getting mugged on my account. Take Lance with you. I'll be fine on my own."

"You sure?" Lance said, clearly torn between the two women.

Caitlin nodded. "I'll be fine."

"Lance!" Brenda protested.

He eyed her skeptically, "Frankly, hon. I gotta agree with her. The last thing I want to do is end up my night sitting in the Emergency room listening to you tell the cops how you lost your purse, our car and got yourself conked on the head to boot."

"Go." Caitlin said firmly, and headed into the building before they descended into a full fledged argument.

A brief stop to the information desk yielded directions to the intensive care unit, and she hurried to the elevators with such a single-minded intensity that she nearly collided with a small blonde woman who was exiting the elevator.

"Excuse me." The woman's voice was abrupt, tired and only marginally apologetic, although Caitlin barely registered any of this as her eyes fell on the woman's jacket. A leather bomber with a small waving American flag emblazoned on the shoulder and the words "Santini Air."

"I – I'm sorry," Kate stammered, realizing who the woman must be. This was Jo Santini, Dom's niece. She thought of saying something, but she wasn't sure what to say. She had never met the woman before, only heard Dom speak of her, and she wasn't sure what Dom and String had thought to tell Jo about their "other" woman pilot. She ended up saying nothing, only offering an apologetic smile as the woman nodded her acceptance and continued down the hall with tired, heavy steps. The doors closed and Kate leaned her head against the cool steel of the panel, feeling for all the world like a stranger in what should have been her own life.

The feeling intensified as she found facing the nurse at the main desk. 

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but Mr. Hawke is not allowed any visitors at this time."

"Can you tell me how he is?"

The nurse shook her head. "I'm sorry; we can only discuss his condition with family members."

"He doesn't _have any family." Caitlin protested. "Dominic Santini and I were the closest thing to family that he had."_

"I'm sorry, ma'am." The nurse said with a sympathetic tone that did not quite ring true. "But we are under orders not to allow anyone in to see him, or release any information regarding his condition until the proper authorities have been contacted."

"I see." Caitlin said glumly. "Do you have any idea of when that might be?"

"No, ma'am." The nurse replied.

Caitlin nodded, and stepped away from the station, casting her eyes down the long hall of glassed in rooms, hoping to catch a glimpse of the one that might be String's. Curtains were pulled in most of them; making it difficult to distinguish the patients inside, save for a room on the end, which was barred with safety glass and sported and armed police officer in a chair outside the door. Caitlin hesitated, a phrase the nurse had used ringing through her head, _"until the proper authorities have been contacted."_

_Proper authorities. The Firm. God, why hadn't she thought of it before! Of course if anything had happened to String or Dom, Michael would have been all over it, looking for answers, seeing that his interests –and the Firm's were protected. That would mean guards._

She eyed the patrolman. No, she decided. It wasn't the Firm's style. They didn't trust anyone, let alone local law enforcement lackeys. They would have put their own people on this. She walked in the opposite direction from the way she had come, heading for the far elevators and allowed her eyes to scan down each hall as she did so. Even still, she nearly missed it. A man in a black suit stood beside a chair near the end of the third hallway. She did not hesitate, but continued walking, stopping only when she was past the corner and out of his view. She frowned. Somehow, she had expected him to be wearing white. All of Archangel's people wore white. She snuck a careful look back around the corner. Still, he had the look about him. She decided not to risk asking him, but continued on her path to the elevators, and headed back down to the main floor where she found the Lansings making their own inquiry at the information desk.

"How is he?" Brenda asked as Caitlin approached them.

She shook her head. "They won't let anyone in to see him just yet, but maybe in a little while."

Lance stifled a yawn. "Well, in that case, how about we hit the cafeteria? I don't know about you, but I skipped dinner and I could really go for some bad hospital food and coffee about now."

Caitlin nodded. "Sounds good." She hesitated. "I need to make a phone call first, though. Why don't you two go on down and I'll meet you down there?"

Lance nodded. "OK, Red. We'll tell 'em to keep the coffee on for you." He said, grabbing his wife's hand and towing her in the direction of the cafeteria.

Caitlin watched them go, then moved to the bank of payphones and dialed the number that String had and Dom had made her memorize by heart "just in case." The call rang through to the main switchboard at the Firm's offices. She gave them the number for Michael's private extension and waited for two more rings. The line picked up and a woman answered. 

"Director of Operations." Caitlin felt the slow rise of tension building. It was not Marella.

"I want to speak to Archangel." She said quietly.

There was a long pause before the woman answered. "One moment please." 

The knots that had been building in her stomach pulled even tighter. They yanked taught when the line picked up and an unfamiliar voice answered.

"This is Locke. To whom am I speaking?"

"Where is Michael?" Caitlin demanded, fighting to keep her voice calm in spite of the panic she could feel building inside.

"Archangel has been reassigned to other duties." The man responded smoothly. "I am taking over his assignments. Are you one of his informants? I assure you—"

Caitlin did not wait for any of his assurances, but snapped the phone down on the receiver, ending the call. She looked quickly around the lobby, feeling the first cold fingers of real fear tickling at her neck. Archangel was gone. There was no one left to turn to. She bit her lip. She had to see String. She had to find out what was going on, and she had to get the hell out of here before the Firm discovered her.

Forcing herself to remain calm, she walked out of the lobby and back to the elevators. She got on and punched the number for the floor below the intensive care unit. It was a standard patient floor, quiet and with little activity at this time of night. She wandered slowly along the halls, pretending to seek a patient's room until at last she found what she wanted: the linen closet. After checking to see that no one was looking, she darted inside and locked it behind her. It was a simple matter to find a set of hospital scrubs, and a more thorough search also yielded a surgical cap, mask, and paper booties to pull on over her sneakers. She wadded up her fatigues and stuffed them under a stack of towels. Listening carefully at the door for footsteps, she heard none and slipped back out into the hallway. A quick glance in the mirror of a sleeping patient's bathroom convinced her that she did indeed blend in with the medical crowd. 

Drawing a deep breath, she headed back to the elevators, and then stopped. The elevators opened out on the main atrium, right in front of the nurse station. She would be noticed right away. She changed direction and headed for the stairs. The floor of the ICU was even quieter than the floor below had been. There were no sounds of muted television sets, no pages over the loudspeaker. Only the soft and whispered sound of monitors and machines tending to the listless forms in the hospital beds made any sound as she walked down the long corridor. As she approached the nurse's station, Caitlin pulled the surgical mask over her face, for fear of being recognized. Fortune was with her, however. The desk was unattended.  She paused there a moment, sparing a quick glance at the assortment of clipboards bearing patient charts. It must have been a slow night. They were all neatly alphabetized, and there was only one name under "H." She pulled it out and glanced at it. 

Hawke, Stringfellow. She glanced at the room number. He was the only patient in the East Hall, the one in which she had seen the man in the black suit. Well, that certainly made things easy.

Tucking it under her arm, she snagged a stethoscope that hung over the back of a chair and draped it around her neck, as she had seen the corpsmen at the army hospital do. Then, mustering all the courage she had left, she strode purposely down the hallway to String's room.

The man in the black suit stood up as she approached and frowned at her.

She flashed him her most winning smile. "Hey there, don't mind me. Just time to check Mr…" –she made a point of looking at the clipboard—"Hawke's vitals."

"Someone was just here to check them twenty minutes ago." He did not appear to be won over by the smile.

"And now it's time to check them again." She said practically, pulling a pen she had swiped –along with the stethoscope and the clipboard—from her pocket and making a small notation on the paper. She glanced at String's chart as she did so. Damn. He was right. Nurse Betty had checked on him 21 minutes ago with orders to monitor him every thirty. She had less than nine minutes to pull this off and get the hell out of here.

She looked back at the guard. He was unmoving.

"Where's the other nurse?"

"She's on her dinner break." The man still appeared unconvinced, but she sensed he might be softening. Maybe, there might be a chance.

 Caitlin sighed, letting all the exhaustion of the day seep into her voice as she spoke.

"Look mister, I'm just trying to do my job. I've already put in a double shift today and I just want to get to the end of it without any more hassles. I just need to check his vitals and dressings and that's it, ok? You can watch through the window the whole time. I swear I won't hide any files or lock-picks in his bed pan."

Maybe it was the act of tiredness that wasn't really an act, or maybe it was her assumption that the man he was guarding was a prisoner like the patient in the other hallway, but the man at last relented, stepping back so that she could enter the room.

The room was darkened, save for the small fluorescent light over the bed that glowed softly through the privacy curtain. Caitlin approached the bed slowly, taking her time as she drew the curtain back hoping that her hands didn't tremble too much as she did so.

He looked like hell. His head was wrapped in bandages, and his face was reddened with minor burns. His arm and shoulder were swathed in gauze, as was most of his chest. Both legs were in a cast, and judging from the contraption they had bolted to the foot rail, he wasn't going to be getting out of bed any time soon.

Setting the chart down on the nightstand, she looked at it more closely. Broken bones, lacerations and 2nd and 3rd degree burns were only the tip of the iceberg. It was the internal hemorrhaging and the cranial fracture that had nearly killed him. It was a miracle he was still alive. Aware of the Firm's man watching her through the window, she jammed the stethoscope into her ears and listened to his chest and heartbeat. His breathing was shallow and the heartbeat weakened, but at least he had one.

 She was grateful for her Guard training as she pulled the blood pressure cuff from the wall and wrapped it gently around his one good arm. As part of a med-evac team everyone –including the pilots—had to go through full emergency medical training, complete with a week-long tour of duty at the base hospital. She might not know what in the hell she was really doing, but she knew enough to look the part as she slipped the stethoscope in beneath the blood pressure cuff and started to squeeze the small rubber bulb. The wall attached pressure kits were the same kind she'd used in the base hospital in Georgia, and she'd even managed to get a reading –albeit a low one—which she dutifully pretended to note on the patient chart.

She heard a soft ringing sound from the hallway and glanced over to see the guard extract a large black bag phone from the briefcase by his feet. He answered it in a soft voice, his words growing even softer as he moved away from the doorway. Damn. That was probably whoever she had spoken to at the Firm, telling him to keep an eye out for suspicious people –like herself.

Don't panic. She thought to herself, and turned back to make a show of checking String's dressing. She bit back a gasp as she looked down to see his hazel eyes wide open and gazing at her.

"String?"

He blinked. His pupils were wide, unfocused and she doubted he could see her clearly.

"String," she said again, keeping her voice soft, "It's Caitlin. Can you hear me?"

"Kate." His voice was little more than a raspy whisper.

He blinked again, trying to focus. "Dom." He said, and repeated the name again.

Caitlin bit her lip, forcing back the tears. "He didn't make it." She said softly, taking his hand.

"I….know." He managed at last, clasping her hand and squeezing it hard.

"Look, String. You're going to be all right. You've just got to concentrate on getting better. Don't worry about anything. Tomorrow I'll go out to Santini and find Jo and we'll—"

            "No!" Hawke's voice was weak, but it cut through her words like a finely honed knife.

            "String,"

            "Don't… go there …Caitlin." It was an order, and a harsh one, but underneath it she could hear the edge in Hawke's voice. It was something she had never heard before –at least not in him. It sounded like…fear.

            "Hawke," she said again, and stopped, seeing the emotion written in his eyes. It _was fear._

            "No…accident." His voice was hollow, but gaining strength and lucidity as he spoke. "…Chopper…was rigged."

            "What do you mean?" She asked carefully, not entirely sure she had heard him right.

            "Bomb." Hawke gasped.  "Dom…never… got off the ground."

            She felt an icy chill race down her back, remembering another chopper, another cut fuel line, another explosion – only that one had been meant for her. It was sheer fortune that she had forgotten her map, that Dom had started the machine for her… that she had come out of the office in time to see the smoke.

             She felt a wave of nausea roll up in her stomach and swallowed it back. She could see it in her minds eye. She had seen it before. Only this time, she hadn't been there to warn him. She spared a quick glance towards the hallway. The man in the black suit was still engaged in his phone conversation.

            "Who did this?" She demanded.

            "—Don't know," he managed at last. "Think 's 'bout St. John."

            It took a moment for the meaning of the words to sink in. Hawke had searched for his brother for so long hat the quest had become his own personal Holy Grail. However, as lead after lead turned into nothing, String had seemed to become more cynical when clues to his brother's whereabouts turned up. Both she and Dom believed that he might actually be starting to resolve himself to the probability that his brother was dead and would never be found.

            "You found him?"

            "…Found me." String's voice was a shallow gasp. "Got his ring…and a note. He's alive… held in the Middle East."

            Caitlin shook her head, "I don't understand, what does this have to do with someone killing Dom?"

            "They want …Airwolf."

            Caitlin shut her eyes, feeling a migraine beginning to build. "Who are _they?"_

            "Don't know," he muttered groggily.

            "Does Michael know?"

            "….Couldn't reach him."

            "I know." Caitlin said softly. "I tried calling. They told me he'd been reassigned."

            String nodded. The effort seemed to cost him, for he winced. "Went to the Firm. …Told me he wasn't there.  …Been transferred. Guy named  Locke …running things…."

            Locke, Caitlin thought. That had been the name of the man who had answered the phone.

            "What about Marella?" she asked.

            There was a long silence. "…Gone too. --Didn't recognize anybody…Even the security guards were new."

            Speaking of security guards, Caitlin glanced over her shoulder yet again. _Still talking, thank God._

            "It's not like Archangel to leave without a note." She sighed.

            "--Or a fight." Hawke's harshly whispered words stretched out across the short distance between them, making the room seem even darker somehow.

            "You think he's dead, don't you." It wasn't a question.

            "Yeah," he said at last. "I do."

            The tears came then, hot and furious and streaking down her face with the speed of the lightening bolts outside the tiny hospital window. Numb, she thought. She had felt searing, heart-rending pain at the news of Dom's death, but this second piece of news left her totally and completely numb, even as it released the flood of tears she had known would come eventually. She pressed her forehead against the cold rail of the hospital bed and let them fall freely. 

Archangel. Michael. Michael Colesmith Briggs III. She had a flashing image of white. White suits and ties and hats and canes. White limos and jeeps and choppers and planes. Everything white, save the ominous black lens in his spectacles where his eye once had been. All about him had been white, as if to constantly remind himself that he was indeed one of the good guys. She'd always suspected that he sometimes doubted himself in that respect. Marella never had. She never had either, and if pressed, she'd have bet that neither had String or Dom.

            Archangel. Guardian angel was more like it. He was always looking out for them, warning them when someone was on their trail, and covering for them when a job didn't go quite right, --making sure everything turned out all right in the end. For all that he'd played the part of the Firm's man, and had wielded the Firm's power over them like a weapon, he had been their only shield against the organization and both he and they had known it. Now he was gone. 

            "Do you think the Firm did this?" She asked as a new horror filled her. "Do you think they are making another try for the Lady?"

            "Don't know." String muttered. "…Wouldn't put it past them." 

            "Why?" she whispered, fiercely. "Why now? Why like this?"

"Scared," Hawke murmured. "…Think I'll give her to Iranians…. Trade her for St. John."

"You'd never do that!"

His harsh, painful laugh surprised her. "....Would…now."

And she wouldn't blame him one bit. Swallowing back the lump in her throat, she reached for his hand. His fingers clamped tight around hers and his hazel eyes pierced her as he fought for more words.

"Go, Kate. …Not safe…for you. …Not safe…for anyone…close to me."

            "String," she protested, "I'm not leaving you alone like this!"

            "Yes," he rasped. "You are. …have to. –For Half Pint."

            _Half Pint. God, she had completely forgotten about Li Van. Hawke's nephew was still at summer camp in Arizona. Probably safe enough for the time being, but she knew well enough what Hawke's next words would be._

            "Get him… Kate." Hawke said. His words were a command, but his voice was pleading. "Take him …somewhere safe. –You know …the drill."

            She did. They had talked about this. Planned for it, though they all had prayed it would never be necessary. If it ever went bad between them and the Firm, Dom and String were to take the Lady and she was to take Li and the plane and the money Dom and String had set aside and go underground until they contacted her. Except, of course, that in this case, Dom and String wouldn't be taking the Lady anywhere, and Caitlin had the uneasy feeling that if she were to take Li and go underground, it would be for good.

            "How will I let you know where to find me?" She demanded, knowing that while his desire for his nephew's safety was sincere, he was also using it as a tool to keep her out of this, out of harm's way, and away from him.

            "You don't." Hawke said tersely. 

            "Dammit, Hawke!" She hissed, "You can't cut me out of this! You need me here, and you know it."

            This time, the silence was far too long. His voice, when he finally spoke was rough and trembling

            "Already …lost Dom. …Won't lose you, too."

            She swallowed hard at his off-handed admission of how much she meant to him.

            "String," she whispered.

            "Go." He pleaded.

            She shook her head.

            "Go." He said more firmly, "Before their …watchdog sees."

            God, he was right. That phone call couldn't last forever. She nodded then, squeezed his hand and brushed the briefest of kisses across his cheek. Then taking her stethoscope and clipboard she turned and slipped quietly out of the door and down the hallway. The guard's back was to her as she walked, and she had almost made it to the end of the hallway before he looked up, catching her departing reflection in the night black window before him.

            "Wait," his voice commanded, cutting down the length of the hall.

            She kept walking.

            "Stop!" he shouted this time, and she turned the corner then broke into a dead run. She flipped the clipboard at a bewildered charge nurse as she sprinted past the nurse's station, and yanked the stethoscope from her neck letting it fall to the floor behind her. She could hear his heavy footsteps pounding down the hallway behind her, gaining speed. She shoved through the heavy double doors, nearly bowling over a doctor and darted around the corner to the stairwell. She raced down the two flights, half sliding down the metal railing, half-jumping over the landing, nearly avoiding a broken ankle and barely making it to the next floor before he opened the doorway and entered the stairwell after her. She tore down the hall and around the corner to the linen closet, locking it behind her, and grabbing her clothes from under the stack of towels where she'd stashed them. She looked wildly about her. She couldn't go back out. There was no time, he was right behind her. A door. There was another door. She ran to it and opened it, discovering that it opened out onto a hall in the branching corridor. She raced through it just as the handle on the door behind her began to rattle. Hide. She had to hide. Not for long. Just long enough to lose him.

            Her eyes skittered wildly up and down the hallway, landing on the open doorway of a darkened patient's room. She slipped in quietly. It was occupied, but the woman was asleep and the bed nearest the window was empty. Slipping behind the curtain, she quickly tossed off the scrubs and pulled on her regular clothes. She wadded the scrubs tightly into a ball and shoved them beneath the bed. She could hear him now, stalking down the hallway pausing at the door of every room as he searched. She felt the panic roiling in her stomach.

            _Got to hide. Got to hide._

            He was getting closer.

            Her eye fell on the window and its view of the wide flat expanse of hospital roof.

            _The window._

            She shoved back the lock and opened it wide, letting the damp rain and evening breeze billow softly into the room. 

            He found it, as she had known he would. He stopped cold at the door of the room as he detected the fresh scent of the night wind and heard the sounds of the traffic floating in from the street below. He approached cautiously, scanning the room left and right as he moved closer to the window. He stuck his head out, seeing the flat wide roof of the children's wing hanging only a few feet below. His vision caught an anomalous shape on the tar and pebble rooftop, and he bent down to pick it up. It was a surgical cap. Sure of his quarry. He vaulted lightly out the window, his footsteps moving quickly as he scoured the surface of the window. She waited a heartbeat, and then another, then one more and she was rolling from her hiding place beneath the sleeping woman's bed and tearing back out into the hallway once more. She made it back to the stairwell, racing down the last four flights as if the hounds of hell were on her heels. Given String's own opinion of the Firm, they probably were. She took only a minute to compose herself as she entered once more upon the main floor. She nearly collided with the Lansings as they stepped through the enormous double doors of the cafeteria and into the hallway leading towards the main lobby. 

            "What took you so long?" Lance wondered, handing her a Styrofoam cup. "Your coffee got cold."

            She took a deep drought of the warm coffee, stalling for time to regain her breath. I checked on String one more time. They still won't let me see him."

            "Find out anything more about his condition?" Brenda asked.

            "A little," Cait said. "I'll tell you about it on the way home. I don't know about you guys, but I'm ready to get out of here. Hospitals give me the creeps."


	4. Chapter Three: Portions of the Truth

Title: Wolf Hunt (continued)

Author: Lady Chal

Rating: PG-13 (mild language)

Classification: Angst/Adventure, Caitlin/String

Disclaimer: They don't belong to me, wish they did!

****************

**Chapter Three: Portions of the Truth**

            "Do you want to stop by your apartment?" Brenda Lansing's voice jarred into her thoughts, bringing Caitlin away from the dark, wet world she had been observing with little interest from the passenger window.

            "What?"

            Brenda threw her a wry smile. "Lance told me you've been gone a while. Do you want to stop by your place and pick up a few things?"

            "It would probably be a good idea," Caitlin sighed, thinking glumly of the duffle bag full of dirty clothes. "I'm not sure I have a single thing left to wear in there."

            They lapsed back into silence for a moment as Brenda flipped on the turn signal and navigated the Blazer towards the free way on ramp, expertly merging into the busy Saturday night traffic. She allowed the big vehicle to drift over towards the middle lane and set the cruise control before she spoke again.

            "How is he?"

            "Bad." Caitlin said tonelessly. "He's nothing but broken bones, serious burns and at least one skull fracture. It's a miracle he's even alive." She shook her head. "I snuck in to see him for a few minutes when no one was looking. He came around a little, enough to talk to me." She drew a deep breath. "I'm amazed he was conscious at all, I think it took every bit of will power he had just to manage it."

            "It's a good sign though, isn't it?" Brenda asked.

            Caitlin shrugged. "He's not out of the woods though, not by a long shot. And if he does pull through, it will be a long time before he's able to fly again." She rubbed a hand across her face, her eyes felt tired, and gritty. "And those are just the physical injuries. God only knows how he'll deal with what happened to Dom."

            Brenda reached over and laid a comforting hand on her arm. "It will take time," she said. "And support, but I think he'll live."

            The drive to Caitlin's apartment hadn't taken long. Brenda was pulling the Blazer to a stop in front of the building almost before Caitlin realized where they were.  Reaching into the back seat, Brenda swatted her dozing husband on the foot.

            "Steve! Go up and help Katie."

            He jerked into wakefulness with a startled snort, and was obediently lumbering out of the back of the Blazer before Caitlin could even muster a protest.

            "Never mind, Red." He said, grabbing her duffle from over the back seat and dragging it out with him. "I got it."

            He shouldered the bag good naturedly, and followed her up the steps to her second story walk-up, nearly plowing into her when she stopped in her tracks, a few feet from the door.

            "What is it?" he asked.

            "The door is open." She said in a hushed voice.

            He froze momentarily, completely alert as he listened intently for the sound of movement. Carefully, he set the bag down on the floor so as not to make a sound and then crossed to the open door in two swift, silent strides. He paused for a moment, listening closely once more and then softly brushed the door open with the back of his hand. It swung soundlessly on its hinges, revealing the dark and jumbled interior of the apartment.

            The apartment had been ransacked. Drawers were turned out and dumped over, their contents spilling across the floor. Couch cushions had been cut open, with bits of stuffing mingling with shards of broken glass on the polished hardwood floors.

            Lance made a move to go in, but Caitlin stopped him, pulling him back.

            "No," she said quickly. "Leave it."

            He gazed at her with a quizzical frown. "Don't you want to see if anything is missing?"

            "It doesn't matter," she said, edging back from the doorway. "I don't have that much worth taking in the first place."

            "Obviously someone thought you did," he said sardonically, casting his from the broken lock back to her. "You should at least call the police."

            "No!" Caitlin said, already aware she had said it too forcefully. "Don't bother. Someone will find it in the morning and call it in."

            "Kate," he said quietly, "We should at least report it."

            She shook her head. "Please," she said softly, pleading with him. "Please, Lance. Let's just go. I can't deal with this right now. I just want to go."

            He studied her for a long moment, eyeing her with a mixture of concern and something that looked all too much like suspicion. She didn't care. Every instinct in her body was telling her to run, to get the hell out of there while she still could. String was right. It wasn't safe.

            Lance drew a deep breath. "All right." He said at last. We'll go."

            She barely contained a sigh of relief as he moved away from the door, stopping only to pick up her bag where he'd dropped it. He did not speak, but she could feel the tension radiating from him as he silently followed her back down the stairs and out to the vehicle. There was a tension about him now, something edgy and dark as he opened the back door and threw her bag over the seat into the cargo area before motioning her to get in. He moved silently around to the driver's side of the Blazer, opening the door with little fanfare. 

            "Scoot over." He said tersely, "I'll drive."

            His wife looked at him curiously, but did not ask questions. One glance at the anger glinting in his eyes –and the unease lurking in Caitlin's—told her that now was not the time.

            In the back seat, Caitlin leaned her head against the cool glass of the passenger window and watched the dark shape of her apartment building as it disappeared behind them. She drew a deep breath, and then another. She couldn't go home. She had the dirty clothes in her duffle bag and twenty five dollars to her name, plus a credit card she probably shouldn't use. She had a twelve year old boy to find and take care of and Dominic Santini was dead. The breath shuddered painfully in her lungs as she fought back a fresh wave of tears. Dom was dead.  Dom was dead and maybe so was Archangel and Marella and anyone who could have helped them. Dom was dead and  if Stringfellow Hawke lived through this, he was probably going to get himself killed too, and there didn't seem to be a damned thing she could do about it.

She couldn't do a blessed thing, because String was right. If they got Dom, they would try for Li as well. Someone was going to have to look out for the boy, and right now, it was going to have to be her. She was going to have to get to Li and take him somewhere safe. It was not at all as easy as it sounded. Dom was dead, Archangel was gone, and Caitlin O'Shaughnessy was quite sure that there was nowhere she could go that would ever be safe again.

She spared a glance toward the front seat. Lance's eyes were glued to the road as he drove, but they shot regularly to the side mirrors as if checking the traffic behind him. He knew, she thought. He knew something was wrong with all of this, how could he not? And he was angry, she could sense it. She closed her eyes. They would want answers, and they deserved them, but the answers she gave could get them killed. Damn it! What was she going to do?

            Lance had taken the long way going home, touring along some of the busier roads, then wandering down some of the side streets and through quiet alleys before pulling up at last in front of the modest split-level ranch where he and Brenda lived.  He said nothing as he punched the garage door opener and pulled the Blazer in beside his pick-up truck. He punched the button again, closing the door, and switched the engine off.

            They filed wordlessly into the house, through the laundry and into the kitchen where Lance stopped at last to pitch the keys on the small mahogany end-table beneath the phone. He rubbed the tired muscles at the back of his neck, and spoke at last.

            "Honey, why don't you fix Kate up in the guest room with a shower and some clothes? I'll put on a pot of coffee."

            Caitlin nodded gratefully. She had not expected the explanations to wait until morning, but the shower was a welcome respite. She took her time under the hot, pounding spray, letting the warm water sluice over tired muscles and taught nerves as she carefully considered what she would say.

            She must tell them the truth, she decided. She was too damned poor a liar to tell them anything else. The truth, she thought, but not all of it. She could only tell them enough to make them understand the danger they were in without actually involving them in it as well.

            Lance, Brenda and the coffee were waiting for her when she entered the kitchen, dressed in the robe, T-shirt and shorts that Brenda had lent her. She could hear the sound of the washing machine chugging steadily from around the corner and guessed that Brenda had already started in on her duffle bag.

            The tension that had radiated from Lance earlier seemed to have vanished as he handed her a mug of coffee and sat down in one of the kitchen chairs across the table from her.  Brenda busied herself for a moment, setting out sugar and pulling a carton of cream from the refrigerator before pouring her own mug and joining at the table.

            Lance took a long sip of his coffee and then looked at her steadily.

            "Ok, Red. It's time to come clean. Just what in the hell is going on?"

            Caitlin dumped a measure of cream into her coffee and added a spoon of sugar. "Honestly?" she said, staring at the pale cloud that roiled in the black depths of her mug. "I'm not exactly sure myself."

            She raised her head and looked him squarely in the eye. "And what I do know, I'm not sure I should tell you. I don't think either of you should be involved in this."

            Lance frowned. "Like it or not, Red. We're already involved." He pushed a hand through his close cropped brown hair. "But I've had a little time to think about this, and a couple of thoughts have occurred to me."

            He shoved back in his chair and eyed her shrewdly. "Santini's death wasn't an accident, was it?"

            Caitlin slowly shook her head.

            "And the break-in at your apartment tonight wasn't just an ill-timed coincidence."

            "I don't know," she said quietly.

            "But you were afraid that it might not be."

            She nodded, but did not elaborate. The silence stretched out between them for a moment, until Brenda reached out and touched her hand.

            "It's ok, Caitlin. Whatever it is, you can trust us."

            Caitlin threw her a wan smile. "It's not about trust, Brandy. I just don't want to put you two in the middle of this."

            Lance snorted.  "Believe me, Red. Brandy and I have both been on the wrong side of the wrong people before. Whatever it is, we can handle it."

            She threw him a bitter smile. "That's what I used to think, too."

            He sighed, "All right, Red. If you don't want to tell me what's going on then how about I tell you what I think and you can correct me if I'm wrong."

            He took a long sip of his coffee and set it down, then fixed her with his level green gaze.

            "I've known Hawke and Santini a long time, longer than you've been working for them. –Long enough to know that they aren't your average flat-land crop-dusters. Santini may have acted like everybody's favorite Italian uncle, but that old buzzard was as tough as nails and wily as hell. And Hawke?" He shook his head. "Hawke is just plain dangerous."

            He spun the mug in a slow circle on the table, rotating its rough, green glazed surface slowly in his hands.

            "I think Hawke and Santini were involved in something dangerous and it finally caught up to them. –Things have been a little off around there the last couple years, even before you showed up."

            He studied her carefully, his voice measured and slow. "Maybe you were involved in it, too. Or maybe they tried to keep you out of it, but you knew. –At least somebody thinks you did. That's why your apartment was tossed."

            He finished speaking and took another drink of his coffee, then set it down on the table in front of him, studying the contents intently as he asked, "Am I close?"

            "Yeah," Caitlin said. "That's pretty much it in a nutshell."

            "So what was, it?" he asked quietly. "Weapons? Drugs?" 

            "No!" Caitlin said quickly. "It was nothing like that."

            He seemed to relax a bit. "I'm glad. I didn't think so. --I can't picture Dom having anything to do with something like that, but still…" he hesitated. "It had to be something big."

            He pinned her with his gaze. "What is it, Caitlin? What is it that has you afraid to even talk to the cops?"

            She expelled a deep breath. She was going to have to tell them. The truth, she thought, but not all of it.

            "You know that Hawke did some work for the government?"

            Brenda nodded. "Dom told me once that he tested planes and helicopters for the military. He tried out some of their guidance and flight systems too, I think."

            "Yes." Caitlin said, "but he did other work for them, too."

            "What kind of work?" Lance asked, his eyes narrowing.

            _The truth, Caitlin thought, __but not all of it. _

            "I asked him once. He wouldn't tell me." Caitlin said carefully, aware that she was treading a fine line between the truth and fiction. Hawke had never actually told her what he was involved in. Instead, he had preferred to show her, and let her figure out the details for herself. "I do know that it was more than testing aircraft. –And it was a heck of a lot more dangerous."

            "How did Dom figure into all of this?" Lance wondered.

            Caitlin shrugged. "I don't think Hawke really trusted the people he worked for. He refused to work with any of their people. He always took Dom with him instead."

            "Why didn't he trust them?" 

            Caitlin shook her head. "He never really said." 

            That much was true. He'd never really had to. He had their billion dollar helicopter; obviously they had wanted it back. Unfortunately, that was not an answer that was going to satisfy Lance.

            "I think he must have had something that they wanted. They wanted to pay him, but he would never take money from them. Dom said he'd made some kind of deal. He would work for them, and they would look for his brother."

            "St. John." Lance sighed, and swore softly. "Christ, I should have known. With him, everything was about St. John."

            "But what about all of this?" Brenda wondered. "Why would someone try to kill Dom and Hawke?"

            Caitlin shook her head. "I don't know. It could have something to do with the work he and Dom were doing."

            "Or it could be that whoever he was working for got tired of the deal." Brenda suggested.

            "Or maybe," Lance broke in, "they were afraid the deal was about to become null and void. Maybe somebody else has entered the game. Somebody who wants to cut a new deal. …Maybe," he continued quietly, "somebody found St. John."

            There was silence for a moment. Brenda looked shocked at the suggestion. Caitlin could only feel the tiny chill that raced down her spine at just how close to the truth Lance was.

            "What are you saying?" Brenda asked, frowning at her husband.

            Lance looked from his wife to Caitlin. "There might be a third possibility. Everybody who's anybody from here to the orient knows how nuts Hawke is about finding his brother. Hell, I still hear whispers about it through my old pipelines." He looked pointedly at Caitlin "Not that I still use them. --I'm strictly legit now. But odds are pretty good if they know that, they also know Hawke has been doing a little work for the government. If St. John is still alive, he's probably been rotting in some backwater prison for the last ten years. Whatever is left of him, it can't be much. An enterprising third party could pick him up from the Vietnamese for a song –if they could find him."

            "What would they want with him?" Brenda asked.

            "A trade," Caitlin said quietly.

            Lance nodded. "Whatever value St. John had to the Vietnamese was pretty much over once the U.S. government pulled up stakes and went home. Any intelligence or information he had is ten years out of date. By now, he can't be worth much to anybody but his brother. But String is another story. If he's been testing stuff for the military, he knows a whole lot about their technology and their new weapons systems. A sharp dealer just might grab St. John and offer him up to String –in exchange for whatever it is String is working on."

            "Hawke would never do that." Caitlin said sharply. "He'd go after his brother himself before he'd be willing to betray this country."

            "You and I know that, Red," Lance said gruffly, "But the people Hawke and Santini were working for might not be so sure, and they probably can't afford to take that risk."

            Brenda looked flabbergasted. "You think our own government might actually be behind something like this?"

            Lance snorted. "Trust me honey, I danced for them a time or two when I flew over there. The people I worked for are more than capable of this. Of course, they might not have had anything to do with it, either. If there is a third party involved, and if they actually did get their hands on St. John, it's possible that they might have set the bomb, trying to force String's hand and get him to deal with them."

            Lance paused and shot a look at his wife, "It explains a lot, doesn't it?"

            "Explains what?" Caitlin asked, looking from one Lansing to the other. 

            Brenda sighed, "String stopped in a couple days ago. He asked if we still had any of our old contacts in the Middle East and the Orient. He said he might need us to hook him up."

            Brenda pushed a wild strand of cinnamon colored hair back from her face. "I asked him what in the devil could have possessed Dom to do business overseas, when he was up to his armpits in movie contracts right in his own back yard." She shook her head. "String said it wasn't business, it was personal."

            Caitlin slumped back in her chair. They were right. There was only one kind of personal business Hawke ever had: his brother. She swirled her cooling coffee around in her mug and then set it back down.

            "I don't know what brought this on," she said at last. "Maybe it does have to do with St. John. Maybe it doesn't have anything to do with him at all, but whatever it is, it's dangerous." She looked up at Lance. "You are right. What happened to Dom and to String was no accident. I got in for just a minute to see him, he told me that himself. Whoever did this to them, they know about me. They don't know how much I know, but they suspect I know something, or they wouldn't have gone through my place. I can't go home, and I can't stay here."

            "Caitlin," Lance began, but she stopped him, holding up a hand.

            "There was an agreement," she said at last. "If anything happened, I was to take Li and get out. Dom made one of the planes over into my name and Hawke stashed aside a little money, enough to make a start somewhere else."

            She swung her gaze from Lance to Brenda. "I intend to keep my end of it."

            "Kate, this is foolish. They'll go after you."

            She shrugged. "They'll look for me anyhow. The best thing I can do is get a head start."

            Lance looked ready to argue, and she leveled the full weight of her gaze upon him. "Look, String is critically injured, but he's not dead. If he comes out of this, they'll be looking for something to hold over him. It won't take them long to find Li Van. I've got to get to him before they do."

            Brenda glanced at her husband, then settled her gaze upon Caitlin.

            "How can we help?" she asked.

            "I was hoping you'd say that." Caitlin said gratefully. "I need to get into the airfield tomorrow. And I may need someone to run a little interference. I've got to get to the Santini hangar. I need to get the plane Dom left for me."

            "Which one was it?" Lance asked.

            "The Stearman." Caitlin said, hoping to hell that it was running.

            Brenda shot her a mischievous smile. "Actually," she said, "It will be easier than you think."


	5. Chapter Four: I'll Fly Away

Title: Wolf Hunt (continued)

Author: Lady Chal

Rating: PG-13 (mild language)

Classification: Angst/Adventure, Caitlin/String

Disclaimer: They don't belong to me, wish they did!

**********

**Chapter Four: I'll Fly Away**

_Van Nuys Airport_

_Sunday, July 27, 1986___

It was still dark when the rolled through the main gates of Van Nuys field. From her vantage point in the middle of the back seat, Caitlin was able to see the digital clock on the dash of the Blazer. It was 4:15 am. Lance was behind the wheel, Brenda rode shotgun. None of them spoke as they rolled slowly down the long row of hangers towards the long, dark blue building that housed the four Lansing executive charter jets.

None of them had slept well, Caitlin knew, but there was an alertness about Lance as he drove that had nothing to do with caffeine. He let the truck move slowly, eyes scanning right and left in a way that suggested he was not unfamiliar with the need for such precautions. There was an edge to him now, slightly wired and razor sharp that she recognized. She had seen it many times before, but not in Lance. It was the look String wore every time he went up in Airwolf. It was the look of a man on a mission, and Lance's mission, she suspected, was to get her the hell out of their lives with as little trouble as possible. She didn't blame him one bit. It was what she wanted, too.

Reaching into the glove box, Brenda extracted a remote similar to the garage door opener clipped to their visor. This one, however, operated the more powerful motors to the hangar doors. She punched the button, and there was a slow, agonized clanking as the enormous steel doors were slowly drawn back to reveal the cavernous depths of the hangar. Two sleek Learjets gleamed softly in the yellow glow of the Blazer's parking lights. Beyond them, like a tiger crouched and ready to spring, Caitlin could just make out the lines of Dom's old yellow Stearman.

"Dom brought it over a couple days ago." Brenda explained as they got out of the truck. "He said the production crew was finished with it for the movie shoot, and he was running out of room in the hangar, what with all the modifications he had to make on the choppers." She shrugged. "I told him he could keep it here for a few days. I didn't think it would be a big deal."

"I'm glad you did." Caitlin said. She approached the plane slowly, running a hand over the lower wing as if greeting an old friend. For all that Dom and String had cursed the disreputable old plane and the multitude of repairs it seemed to require, she had secretly adored it. The antiquated aircraft had always handled well for her in the film shoots. –Dom and String had always preferred to fly the choppers and run the cameras rather than soar the skies in the graceful old bird. But for her the Stearman had been a joy. As close, she thought, as she could ever get to truly soaring as the eagles and hawks did.  

She had even flown the old bi-plane to victory in last year's California Classic Wings Invitational, a five-hundred mile air race featuring antique aircraft. She and the Stearman had touched down at the finish line five minutes ahead of the rest of the competitors in the dual wing class, much to Dom and String's unending surprise. The feat had not only earned Santini Air a trophy and a fifteen hundred dollar prize, but had garnered Caitlin the event's coveted Pancho Barnes award for female aviators. 

She smiled faintly as she recalled Dom's words from that far off day. 

_"Ah, she likes you Katie. She'd never fly like that for String or me."_

It was probably part of the reason Dom had deeded the plane for this purpose. That and the fact that no one would ever question his decision to sell the contrary old bird from his constantly rotating collection of antique planes and helicopters. If anything, people would wonder why he had kept it so long.

Pulling herself up onto the wing, Caitlin leaned into the cockpit and reached under the pilot's seat. Her fingers brushed a coarse packet of paper. Grasping hold of a corner, she tugged it free. The manila envelope came away with a soft, teasing sound as the black electrical tape that held it in place gave way. Opening the envelope, Caitlin turned it over and shook it, catching the contents as they spilled out. There were three slips of paper: a bill of sale, registration for the Stearman and a check made out to Santini Air.

She shot a quick glance at Brenda. "I need to use your office."

Brenda waved a hand to the office door. "Whatever you need."

Taking the check and the bill of sale, she flipped on the old IBM Selectric and wound the check into the typewriter. It was already signed in String's rough hand. It only needed a date and a fair price. She quickly typed in the amount for $12,000 – the entire balance of the dummy account which String had arranged for this purpose—and dated the check for two days prior, the date which Dom had removed the plane from the Santini hangar. She quickly pulled the check from the typewriter, put in the Bill of sale and added the same date to it as well. Turning next to the copier, she made a copy of the documents, pocketed the registration, and then tucked the check and the bill of sale into a plain white envelope she found in the desk.

Brenda approached as she came out of the office. "It's half-past four." She announced. "We've got maybe an hour until sunrise, and only another thirty minutes to get this old bird up in the air before anyone else shows up."

Caitlin nodded. "Go ahead and start her up." She said. "I'll meet you at the landing strip. I've just got one more thing left to do."

Slipping out of the hangar, she moved quickly across the dark field to the looming gray shape of the Santini hangar. She was halfway to the building when she suddenly had to stop and inhale sharply. Even if the pale marks of the investigators spray paint had not been visible in the darkness, she would have known the spot by the smell alone. The scorched, fetid odor or burnt asphalt, metal and other things she didn't want to think about made her stomach heave. She tasted bile in the back of her throat, but forced it back as she hurried past the ominous black scorch in the asphalt beside the hangar. She could not think about it. She _would not think about it. Not now._

Fumbling for her keys, she found the one that unlocked the access door and moved quickly to disarm the alarm system. She did not bother with the lights, but moved through the building swift and sure to the open door of Dom's office. Only there did she allow herself a moment to draw in the familiar sounds and smells of the building. The rattle of the overworked air conditioner, the slightly musty air, heavy with the petroleum odors of grease and diesel fuel, was cut only by the faint tang of Dom's cologne. Old Spice. She drew a deep breath. His office still smelled of it.

She moved deeper into the office, reaching for the light switch, and then froze as she noticed the slim, dark figure reclining easily in the worn office chair. Her heart sunk all the way down to the pit of her stomach as the voice filled the too silent air between them.

"Caitlin O'Shaughnessy. I was wondering when you would show up."

Josephine Santini leaned forward and switched on the small, gray metal desk lamp. The harsh florescent light cast her features in a brittle light as she leaned back in her chair to study Caitlin further. Each woman gave the other a long, assessing look as they measured strengths and weakness. There was something almost adversarial in the moment, and yet, Caitlin sensed a certain kinship in the woman. She knew what it was. It was written in Jo Santini's eyes as it must be in her own: fatigue, pain, loss, grief –and underscoring it all, a quiet anger.

Caitlin said nothing, but stepped further into the room, closing the door quietly behind them as if to seal out the rest of the world from this conversation they must have.

Jo Santini studied her narrowly, before speaking at last. "I thought it was you at the hospital, but I couldn't be sure." She hesitated. "You went to see String, didn't you?"

Caitlin nodded. "They wouldn't let me in."

Jo smiled wryly. "Me either. Fortunately, Mr. Locke got me in to see him."

Caitlin drew a sharp breath. "You've spoken with Locke?"

Jo nodded. "He was very helpful."

"I'll just bet he was," Caitlin said dryly. "The Firm will help you right over a cliff if they think it will get them what they want."

"And what is it they want?" Jo asked.

Caitlin frowned, not liking the cat and mouse game. "If they haven't told you already, they will soon enough." She rubbed the back of her neck, trying to ease the tension that was rapidly building. "If you're smart, you'll do yourself a favor and take my advice. Stay as far away from Jason Locke and the Firm as you possibly can, and forget anything String and Dom ever told you about them. You'll live longer."

"You're afraid of them."

"Damn straight I am." Caitlin said frankly. "I've worked with them for two years. I know what they're capable of..."

"And what about you?" Jo asked quietly, "What are you capable of?"

Caitlin's eyes narrowed. She did not like the tone in the other woman's voice. "What do you mean by that?"

Jo shrugged. "It's a little suspicious, isn't it? You taking out for as long as you did, then showing up right on the heels of Uncle Dom and String's mysterious accident and sneaking into the hangar in the dead of night. It doesn't exactly make for the picture of a trustworthy employee."

"You think I'm behind this?" Caitlin exclaimed, outraged. "Is that what they told you?"

Jo tilted her head. "It's a plausible theory, and it would explain why they want to talk to you so bad."

Caitlin snorted. "They want me because they want to know what I know. That, and the fact that they'd probably like to put me six feet under when they finally get it out of me. But of course your friend Mr. Locke probably didn't tell you that."

Jo frowned. "I don't believe he's what you think he his. He actually seems very nice. I think he really wants to help us find out who did this to Uncle Dom and String. He even wants to help us find St. John."

Caitlin waved her hand dismissively. "I've heard that one before, right from the mouth of the gift horse himself. There's only one person String and Dom ever trusted in the Firm, and his name sure as heck wasn't Jason Locke."

"Why don't you talk to him, then?" Jo challenged.

"He's been conveniently reassigned." Caitlin said. "--Which is probably a fancy term for an early retirement to an early grave. If they really wanted my cooperation that badly, they would bring him back to talk me in. But they haven't, and that means they can't." She shoved her hands deeper into the pocket of her leather jacket and threw Jo a challenging look of her own.

"What about you? What has you rummaging around Dom's office in the middle of the night?"

"Actually, I was waiting for you." Jo confessed, leaning back in the chair.  "After I saw you at the hospital, I came back to the office and checked the answering machine. I found the message you left for Everett. I had a feeling you would come back here. I figured if there was anyone who could tell me what the hell was going on –whatever it was that String and Dom were really involved in—it would be you. So back to you, just what were you intending to do here?"

Caitlin's gaze focused unflinchingly on Jo's as she pulled the envelope from her jacket pocket and tossed it on Dom's desk. "Following orders," she said, "like a trustworthy employee."

Picking up the envelope, Jo opened it and scanned the bill of sale and the check, both of which were scribbled with Dom and String's unmistakable signatures. 

"You're running." Her voice was more than a little accusatory. "String's laying there in the hospital dying, and you're running out on him! What else were you going to take besides Dom's airplane, --a few grand in petty cash?"

"Actually, String set aside an account if I needed it." Caitlin said coolly, "And believe me, I'm not leaving by choice. If it wasn't for Li Van, I wouldn't be doing this at all, but it was the plan we all agreed on. If something happened to String and Dom, I would take Li and go underground."

"Oh God," Jo said, paling visibly. "Li. I completely forgot! He hasn't even been told yet." She shook her head. "I don't even know what summer camp he's at."

Caitlin frowned, placing her hands on her hips. "Well, I do, and I'm going to go get him before the Firm does."

She nodded towards the envelope. "Do what you want with it. Report it to Locke or bury it, I don't care. But I made a promise to String that I would take care of that boy and I intend to keep it. I'm taking the Stearman, I'm flying out of here and I'm going to go get Li. Then, God willing, I'm going to run so far and so fast that nobody will be able to find us. –Not even the Firm." She gave Jo a searching look. "For Li's sake, I really hope you don't try to stop me." Then, turning on her heel, she opened the door to leave.

"Wait!" Jo called after her, halting her movements.

"It's true, isn't it?" Jo asked softly, almost wonderingly, "What Locke told me about the top secret helicopter. It does exist, and you and String and Dom know where it is."

"I don't know what Locke told you," Caitlin said tiredly, "but yes, the helicopter does exist. If you're smart you'll forget about it. I know I'm going to try my damndest to."

"It could save St. John, couldn't it?"

Caitlin turned on Jo, her eyes round with disbelief. "You can't be serious! Even if String's brother was still alive –which I seriously doubt—you don't really think the Firm would be willing to take Airwolf and go after him? Once they have that helicopter in their hands, they'll never risk it on a mission like that. –No matter what they promised you or Hawke. You'll be lucky if they'd even leave you alive to tell the tale."

"Who said anything about sending the Firm in after him?" Jo said meditatively.

Caitlin stared at her in amazement. "You're out of your mind. The kind of mission you're talking about can't be done without a full crew compliment. Even an experienced pilot like Hawke wouldn't be able to pull it off alone. You would need at least three to do it." Caitlin shook her head. "Even if you could fly Airwolf, you'd be two people short."

Jo looked at her seriously. "The way I see it, I'd only be one person short. –If you were to help me."

Caitlin shook her head. "Oh no. No how, no way. I don't care if St. John Hawke is alive and well and begging for me to come and get him. I don't know him from Adam. My only allegiance is to his brother and that boy, and I am not going to risk Li's safety, even if it is to help his father."

"If you won't help St. John, then help me." Jo challenged. "Help me, and I'll help you."

Caitlin's eyes narrowed. "How?"

Jo frowned. "You're not leaving me anything to bargain with, here Kate. Without that chopper I don't have a hope in Hell of convincing the Firm to help me get St. John back, let alone the capability to do it myself." She hesitated, and then plunged forward. "Show me this helicopter. Teach me how to fly it. Give me some kind advantage to use against the Firm. They've already got people out combing every inch of the desert looking for that bird, and I think that Army officer they sent over here today has a pretty damned good idea of where to look. It will only be a matter of time before they find it. Once they do, they won't need any of us."

Jo saw the red haired woman flinch at this news, and correctly read the chill of fear in her eyes. "And what about Li? The Firm must already be looking for him. They probably even have a good idea of where he is. You can't afford to waste any time here, Caitlin. I can help you…if you'll help me."

"What is it that you want?" Caitlin asked. Her voice was grim.

Jo picked up the envelope and waved it in the air "Teach me how to fly Airwolf. I'll keep the Firm distracted while you go after the kid, and I'll help you cover your tracks. If anyone asks, I'll tell them that the Stearman sale is legit. I'll tell people that I helped Dom close the deal and that I was the one who flew it out of here this morning to deliver it to the customer. I'll destroy your old pay stubs and personnel files. I'll make sure nobody finds String's special accounts. I'll do my best to make sure people forget Caitlin O'Shaughnessy ever worked for Santini Air."

"And if I don't agree?" Caitlin's voice was quiet, but dangerous.

Jo snapped the envelope against her palm. "Then I take this to Jason Locke and tell the Firm everything I know."

Caitlin gazed at her for a long moment. "I suppose I could kill you," she said at last, "but Dom was too much like a father to me." 

"He always was a soft touch for a pretty face," Jo shot back.

Caitlin O'Shaughnessy smiled bitterly. "All right," she said quietly, "I'll do it. But don't say I didn't warn you. The rewards may seem great, but it could cost you everything you hold dear."

Jo smiled darkly. "It already has."

Caitlin put out her hand. "It's a deal then," she said quietly.

Jo grasped it in a firm, cool grip. "When and where?"

"String's cabin, day after tomorrow, 9:00 a.m. sharp. Come alone or the deal's off."

"And if I don't?"

"I'll have Airwolf. I'll know if you're living up to your end of the bargain or not, and anyone who gets in my way will have a very unpleasant surprise."

Turning to leave once again, Caitlin moved once more towards the door and out of the office. It was time to go. She was halfway to the outside door when the bright splash of color on the wall to her left caught her eye. The pale beams from the security light outside filtered through the fiberglass skylight panels, illuminating the framed 8x10 photo in their orangish green light.

_God, look at us, she thought, slowing as she drew nearer to the photograph. __We had no clue what we were getting into._

It was a picture of the three of them, posed by the Stearman's broad yellow wing. Dom was clutching a tall bronze trophy on one arm, an oversized cardboard check in the other. His black eyes fairly danced with glee. Caitlin perched above him, half sitting on the edge of the cockpit and holding up her Pancho Barnes plaque for the camera. She could have been a disheveled Amelia Erhart with her red hair flying, Dom's silk scarf knotted about her throat and the collar of her leather jacket turned up against the wind. She looked tired and windblown, but happy. String was below her, leaning against the other side of the wing, opposite Dom. Slouching casually in his worn leather jacket and smiling up at her and Dom with that damned sphinx smile that revealed nothing except perhaps a tinge of amusement; he looked every bit the enigma. She liked that picture. It showed them as they really were.

"Take it." Jo Santini's voice echoed softly across the vast emptiness of the hangar.

Caitlin turned in surprise to see Dom's niece standing silhouetted against the doorway to the office, an unreadable expression cutting across her fine features.

"They would want you to have it." Jo said quietly, "And it will probably be easier for people to forget about you if your face isn't plastered up here on the wall."

Caitlin reached slowly for the picture, removing it from its nail and tucking it into the front of her jacket. "Thanks," she said softly.

Jo shrugged. "Just keep your end of the bargain. I'd hate to think their faith in you was misplaced."

Caitlin nodded. "Same here."

From across the field she heard the distant sputter as the Stearman's engines coughed to life. It was time to go.

Had she been alone, she might have spared one last look back at the place that had been more of a home to her than the apartment she'd rented the last two and a half years, but she didn't. Her pride wouldn't allow it. She didn't bother to reset the alarm or lock the door, but left them for Santini as she crossed the tarmac to the Lancing hangar on a run. Lance and the Stearman were waiting for her. The engine hummed smoothly as he throttled it up a notch and eased back to a steady purr as he let it idle, satisfied with its performance. Climbing out of the cockpit, Lance stepped onto the wing and jumped to the ground.

"She's ready to go." He called, raising his voice to be heard above the engine. "Brenda's parked at the other end of the strip to guide you out, but the sun should be up in another twenty five minutes. You shouldn't have any trouble."

He was right. The sky was already turning from black to dark, pewter gray. The outlines of the buildings and the shapes of the landscape were becoming clearer in the dim light. It would not be hard to see the runway.

She nodded, taking the gloves and goggles he handed her and pulling them on.

"Take this." He pulled something from under his jacket and thrust it at her. "You might need it."

She stared blankly at the .45 Colt, barely aware of its compact weight in her gloved hand. Somewhere along the line, her old Law Enforcement training kicked in and she dropped the clip to see that it was fully loaded. Shoving it back into the butt of the pistol with a smooth click, she assured herself that the safety was on and then tucked the gun into the pocket of her jacket.

"Thanks" She said, staring up at Lance, "--for everything."

Lancing shrugged. "Forget it, Red. Next time I see Hawke, I'll tell him we're even. As for you…"

He pulled her into a brotherly embrace. "Take care of yourself, and the kid, too. If you need anything, send up a flare. I'll see what I can do."

"Take care, Lance." She said hugging him back.

"Good flying, Red." He said stepping back. "Now get the hell out of here before the controllers get ambitious and decide to show up for work on time."

She nodded and turned to scramble up into the plane. She eased the throttle forward and the engine responded with a throaty roar, sending the plane forward towards the runway with a gradually increasing momentum. As she taxied onto the runway, the lights of Brenda's Blazer flicked on, providing her with a landmark as she prepared for takeoff. Lining herself up with the lights, she pushed the throttle all the way forward and was rewarded with an instant burst of speed. Dom and String's recent repairs must have cured whatever was ailing the old plane, for it fairly sailed down the runway, gaining speed rapidly as it hurled itself into the wind. She felt the wheels bump beneath her and then there was that momentary lurch in the pit of her stomach as the wide yellow wings caught the air, freeing her from the ground. She gained altitude rapidly, clearing the roof of the Blazer by a couple hundred feet as she passed over it.  Turning in a wide arc, she made another pass, waggling her wings to the small figure beside the car in an aerial farewell.

The airfield disappeared beneath her in a fraction of seconds. She continued her climb to 1800 feet, and then checked her compass and heading. Adjusting her course and speed to the route she had planned she settled back into her seat and let the plane fly itself. Only there, safe in the Stearman's cockpit, buffeted by the wind and cold, did she allow her mind to fly free. Only then did she allow herself to think of Dom, and Hawke, and the life she was leaving behind. Only there did she allow herself to remember. Only then did she allow herself to cry until no more tears were left.


	6. Chapter Five: The Last Mission

Title: Wolf Hunt (continued)

Author: Lady Chal

Rating: PG-13 (mild language)

Classification: Angst/Adventure, Caitlin/String

Disclaimer: They don't belong to me, wish they did!

**********

**Chapter Five: The Last ****Mission******

_Lake Tahoe__, __California___

_Sunday, July 27, 1986___

It was only a few minutes past seven when she climbed over the last ridge of craggy mountain tops and brought the Stearman in a long lazy arc around the tiny cabin tucked against the side of Eagle Mountain. A wide clearing and a long rutted lane that was more a goat path than a road were visible on the ridge that led to the cabin. Caitlin dropped down and eased back the throttle for a closer look, then swore softly to herself. It was obvious that Doc hadn't graded his driveway in a while, but living up this high, he rarely drove anywhere any ways.  The lane looked rough, muddy and treacherous enough to snap a wheel on the Stearman's landing gear and end her flying days for good. She discarded the notion of using the lane and circled higher to the long, smooth slope of ridge that climbed above the cabin. The grass was thinner there and she could see that the ground, though rough was relatively free of stones and holes that plagued the lane below the house. Scanning the clearing with a trained eye, she quickly gauged the distance. It was a little short for her taste. She might have to cut the engine and haul back on the flaps to stop before she hit the tree line, and getting back out of here would take every ounce of climbing power the engine could give her, but she had a feeling it was going to be the best that she could do.

Circling around again she slowed for her final approach and with her jaw set in concentration and a muttered prayer on her lips, she came in for a rough, but successful landing.  Though there hadn't been as much rain here as they'd received last night along the coast, but the ground was still slightly spongy, tugging at her wheels and slowing her easily. A good thing for a landing perhaps, but unless it dried out a bit, it didn't bode well for her take off. She frowned. There was no time to worry about it now; she had far bigger concerns on her mind at the moment.

There was a faint curl of smoke from the chimney, lending a cozy, welcoming air to the place. The front door opened as she cut the Stearman's engine, and a lean, dark figure clad in well-worn denim and flannel appeared in the doorway. Doc Gifford met her halfway up the path as she scrambled out of the plane and worked her way down the rough side of the ridge to the cabin.

"Caitlin." He said, frowning as he greeted her. "What the heck are you doing trying to land that thing up here? You're lucky you didn't break a strut. Why didn't you take one of Santini's choppers?"

She pulled the gloves from her hands, flexing her fingers to bring back the warmth and feeling that had seeped from them steadily in the last few hours. "Dom is dead, Doc." Her voice sounded flat, and eerily calm. 

"What!" Gifford exclaimed. "How?"

"His chopper exploded. Probably a bomb. String was injured too. They don't know if he's going to make it."

"My God," the doctor ran a hand through his unruly, dark hair. "Who did it?"

            Caitlin shook her head. "I don't really know. String couldn't tell me much –except to get out, and take Li with me."

            Gifford nodded. "That was the plan," he said quietly. "What do you need?"

            Caitlin sighed. "I have to go get Li, and I could use your help."

            "Name it."

            "I need a lift out into the desert. –And I need you to help me fly Airwolf."

            Doc looked at her for a long moment and then shook his head. "No, he said at last. What you need first is some food and some rest. You look like hell, Kate." He dropped an arm around her and pushed her towards the cabin. "Come on inside and fill me in while I make breakfast."

            She shook her head impatiently. "We don't have time for this, Doc!"

            He fixed her with a steady gaze. His smile was gentle, but the hand on her back was insistent as he propelled her forward. "We'll make time." He said firmly. "No way am I flying with you when you're in this shape. You won't be any good to anyone –especially Li-- without some rest."

            "But the Firm has to be looking for him by now! It won't take them long to find him!"

            Doc nodded. "True," he said, but you've got the advantage. "You know where he is …and you have Airwolf."

            Caitlin hesitated. She _was tired. It had been late when she'd finally gotten to sleep last night and she and Lance and Brenda had all gotten up only a couple hours later in order to sneak the Stearman out of Van Nuys. She vaguely remembered eating something, but it seemed so long ago that for the life of her, she couldn't remember what it was. Doc's hand clamped firmly down upon her shoulder, and she felt his breath tickle her ear as he leaned over her. "Come on, Katie," he said quietly. "Doctor's orders, I'm not taking 'no' for an answer."_

            She nodded then, her shoulders sagging slightly as she gave in, and let him lead her to the cabin.

_The Valley of the Gods_

_Monday, July 28, 1986___

_6:53 a.m.___

            Caitlin brought Gifford's battered 4x4 Chevy pickup to a quiet halt inside the Lair. The helicopter's sweeping dark lines were faintly visible in the dusty beams of sunlight that drifted down from the opening in the volcanic chimney, some 200 feet above them. It was ridiculous, Caitlin knew, but she looked almost forlorn in the shadowy light. _It's almost like she knows. Dom had always sworn that every aircraft possessed a soul, and as she studied Airwolf, crouched and waiting, Caitlin wondered –not for the first time—if he might be right._

            "We're here." She said quietly, and switched off the engine.

            "Can I take this thing off now?" Gifford's voice was slightly muffled by the dark blue pillowcase that was draped over his head. He'd been wearing it ever since they'd left the main highway and headed out into the desert. In the last forty minutes that they'd been driving over rough roads –and he suspected—no roads at all, he'd become not only thoroughly disoriented, but slightly motion sick.

            "For the moment," Cait unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the door. "But you'll have to put it on again before we take off. It's best if you stay in the dark about this place, just in case the Firm comes asking."

            Doc pulled the pillowcase from his face and drew in a deep breath of the cave's dry, dusty air. His eye fell on Airwolf, and his breath expelled in a long, low whistle.

            "Hello, beautiful lady." He murmured, and shook his head. "Even standing still, she takes you're breath away."

            "Yeah," Caitlin said softly, staring at the Lady for a moment longer.

            Doc let his gaze roam around the cavern. 

            "Some digs."

            Caitlin shrugged, and reached under the seat for the .45 Lance had given her. She tucked it securely in her belt at the small of her back.  "It serves the purpose. String found it. He and Dom set up all the lights and equipment."

            Doc nodded thoughtfully. "I'm not surprised. It feels like his kind of place."

            Caitlin glanced around the lair, somewhat surprised to discover he was right. There was something about the place that reminded her very much of String. The soaring red rock walls were sturdy, and rough hewn, and silent. The cavern itself was as big and empty as the hollows inside the man himself. The sense of him was so strong in this place, that for a moment, she almost thought she could feel him there, lending her his strength and steeling her resolve.

            _Are you gonna stand there running your mouth all day, or are we gonna fly? She could almost hear his voice, raspy and irritable, bringing her back to the business at hand as he had done on so many other missions. She shook her head and slammed the door of the truck shut upon her little reverie._

            "Come on." She said tersely, "Let's fly."

            Caitlin watched as the rugged, snow dusted plateaus of the Valley of the Gods disappeared behind them and then turned to the man beside her. "Ok, she said. You can take her now."****

"I gotta admit, I never thought I'd be flying this sweet lady again," Gifford admitted as he pulled the pillowcase off of his helmeted head. Caitlin held the chopper in a low hover as he tugged awkwardly at the zipper of String's flight suit, and released the bit of cloth that was had caught in the zipper. She waited until he had tossed the offending scrap of fabric away from himself, and then relinquished the controls to him.

            "No offense, Doc, but I wish you didn't have this chance." Caitlin said as she moved back to the tactical station behind the pilot's seat.

            Gifford nodded, "Believe me, Kate, I wish it wasn't under these circumstances. He brought the chopper into a steady climb and scanned the rugged landscape around them. So where are we going?"

            Kate accessed the computer and began to punch in commands

            "Scottsdale, Arizona."

            "Arizona? What's Li doing there?"

            "Summer camp," Caitlin said, as she typed in the name and address of the ranch and waited for the computer to process it into coordinates for latitude and longitude. "It's basically a dude ranch for Boy Scouts. The spend two weeks doing ranch work, learning to ride horses and rope, and then they spend another two weeks out on the trail,  camping and studying Indian ruins and petroglyphs."

            "Four weeks? That's a long program. I'm surprised String let him go for that long."

            "I don't think String was overly crazy about the idea, but he didn't say much. Li practically begged him to death to let him go."

            "So how much time does he have left there?" Doc asked.

            "At least another week," Kate said. "String dropped him off there on his way to take me to Atlanta for Guard Training."

            "Three weeks." Doc mused, pulling back a little on the stick and skimming the Lady over the low rise of a rock formation that rose up beneath them.  "So that means he's probably riding around out in the desert somewhere, instead of back at the ranch where we can conveniently find him."

            "Looking for petroglyphs, if the brochure is to be believed." Caitlin agreed, as she continued to study the screen in front of her. The computer had produced the proper coordinates and was in the process of plotting them on a detailed map. She entered another command and the green lines before her began to shift and stretch as the map became three dimensional, complete with topographical rock formations and elevations of the area. The terrain was nearly as rough as the Valley of the Gods. Airwolf would be right at home in it.

            "I think I'm starting to understand why you needed to bring out the big guns." He said, as he continued to skim Airwolf fast and low across the rough desert terrain. "Without Airwolf's surveillance equipment, finding Li will be like searching for a needle in a haystack."

            "Maybe not quite that bad," Caitlin said, "But it sure wouldn't be as easy, and besides, we're on a timetable here. It's only a matter of time before the Firm figures out where String has stashed Li, and comes looking for him."

            "You think they might already be on their way?"

            "They might." She said seriously, "And if they are, I want to be flying the big guns when I meet them."

She looked down once more at the computer generated topographical diagram of the Arizona desert. Li was somewhere among those canyons and caverns and mesas. She had to find him before the Firm did, but at the moment there wasn't a blasted thing she could do but enjoy the ride. It was likely the last one she was going to take in this magnificent machine. The reality of that hadn't quite sunk in yet, but as she settled back into her seat she could feel the helicopter wrapping around her, enclosing her, protecting her as it always had, from the danger that lay around them. 

Removing her hands from the keys, she let them fall to either side of the keyboard, where they rested on the smooth black surface of the control panel. She could feel the power, the throb of energy that hummed beneath her fingertips. Logic told her that it was little more than electricity from the circuit boards and the vibration from the powerful engines, but that small sentimental part of her –the part that whispered with Dom's voice—wondered again if aircraft really did have a soul. If they did, then surely the Lady's must rest here, in the miles of wiring and circuitry of her computerized brain.

 Caitlin rubbed her fingers over the glossy panel in an idle caress. _One more time, old girl, she thought wistfully. __Just bring us through one more time, and maybe then you can rest. –Maybe then we all can._

She felt the increase of pressure in her inner ear as Doc took them up to a higher altitude and then from beneath her feet came the heavy shift in power to the engines.

"Engage thrusters." Doc's voice crackled softly in her ear.

Reaching over, she flipped the proper switches on the console. "Thrusters engaged," she called back.

Then, she was suddenly pressed into her seat as the powerful jet engines were unleashed and Airwolf carried them forward …one more time


	7. Chapter Six: Men In Black

Title: Wolf Hunt (continued)

Author: Lady Chal

Rating: PG-13 (mild language)

Classification: Angst/Adventure, Caitlin/String

Disclaimer: They don't belong to me, wish they did!

***********

**Chapter Six: Men in Black**

_Red Rock __Mesa__, __Arizona___

_Monday, July 28, 1986___

_8:15 a.m.___

Li Van Hawke checked the girth on his well-worn western saddle one more time and then gave the patient red gelding a friendly pat on the shoulder. Much as he wouldn't miss the twenty mile days spent in the saddle as they toured both the natural and man-made wonders of the Arizona desert, he was going to miss the horse. Jester and he had become friends of a sort in the last few weeks. Though he did not doubt it was largely due to the carrots, apples and other snacks he snuck from his lunch pack to share with his equine companion.

            "I can't believe we only have one more week left," Stevie Michaels, a tow-headed boy with a definite New York accent said. "I wish I could stay forever."

            "Don't you want to go home?" Li asked, just a little surprised. Though he had enjoyed his time here at the camp and the new friends he had made, the truth of the matter was that he was more than ready to see Uncle String and Dom and Caitlin and Tet. His only regret was that he could not take Jester with him. Perhaps he would ask Uncle String about a horse when he got home. There was plenty of room at the cabin.

            Stevie scuffed at the dirt with one dusty boot. "Nah," he said. "Home is such a drag. Mom's always nagging me about homework and chores, Dad's always too busy to do anything and my sister Chelsea is just a brat. I never get to do anything cool at home like we did here. Heck, it'll probably be a whole entire year until I get to ride a horse again."

            Li nodded. "I know what you mean; I probably won't get to ride much, either."

            "Yeah, but your uncle is cool. Not boring like my family." Stevie observed dolefully. "You'll get to go flying around all over the place in those airplanes and helicopters and stuff. At least you get to have a little excitement."

            Li sighed. "Trust me, sometimes excitement is a real drag."

            No sooner had he spoken then the soft steady thump of an engine caught his ears. Li frowned. He knew that sound. He practically lived with it. Turning away from the horse, and Stevie, and their conversation, he began to scan the horizon until he saw it: the small dark shape of a helicopter drawing steadily nearer.

            "What is it?" Stevie asked.

            "A chopper." Li replied. "I wonder what it's doing out here."

            "Maybe somebody got hurt." Stevie said. One of the counselors had told them about another camper who'd fallen off their horse and broken their arm on the ride the month before. The unfortunate scout had been airlifted to the hospital in Scottsdale, almost to the envy of the other campers.

            Li shook his head. "Nah, we would have heard about it by now."

            "Maybe it's your uncle."

            Li turned back to his horse and fished in his saddle bag for the pair of binoculars he had been using to study birds and wildlife. Extracting them from between his water bottle and sunscreen, he turned and fixed them upon the approaching chopper. It was a Jet Ranger, like Dominic's, but it wasn't from Santini Air. It wasn't even pure white, like the one that Michael sometimes flew around in. No, this one was solid, ominous ebony black. No markings. No numbers. Li bit his lip and felt a small coil of tension form in his stomach. Something wasn't right.

            He shoved the binoculars back into his saddle bag and kept his head down as the helicopter skimmed overhead, only a mere 200 feet above them. The horses neighed and danced nervously at the end of their picket lines as their riders moved quickly to calm them. Li watched as it sailed over the rocky draw where they had picketed the animals and disappeared behind the ridge where they had made their camp the night before. He listened as the engine powered down and the steady beat of the rotors slowed. It had landed.

            "Come on," he said to Stevie, and scrambled up the rocky slope. 

Topping the rise, he crouched down behind a large rock and pushed the other boy down beside him. The doors on the chopper were opening and three people got out. Two of them were in black business suits. The third, a tall man with sandy blonde hair was in an olive colored military flight suit. They fanned out and then stood, patiently waiting as Calvin Mackenzie, the Camp director and head guide stalked toward them in barely contained fury.

"What in hell do you idiots think you're playin' at, landing that contraption here?" Mackenzie's voice was loud enough to carry across the camp and to the draw beyond it, where the boys were crouched. 

"You scairt the hell outta my animals! These kids could have been hurt!" Mackenzie roared.

The three men were implacable in the face of the tirade. They stood, silent and calm, as the camp director raged. Only when the wiry little rancher had run out of steam did they speak –or rather, one of them speak. It was one of the businessmen, Li saw, a tall, broad shouldered black man with a neatly trimmed moustache. His voice was deep, but softer than Mackenzie's and they could barely make out his words as he uttered a brusque apology.

"Come on," Li said, "Let's get a little closer."

Threading their way through the rough rocks, they crept up to the Chuck wagon, which had been unhitched at the edge of camp, only a couple hundred yards from where the helicopter had landed. Climbing quietly into the back of the wagon, the boys worked their way up to the front of the wagon box and peered over the back of the spring seat. The black man was still speaking, and this time, they were able to make out his words.

            "Mr. Mackenzie, my name is Jason Locke." The man extracted a neat white business card from the breast pocket of his suit and handed it to Mackenzie. "I've come for one of your campers, Li Van Hawke."

            Mackenzie glowered at him. "No one outside of this camp is allowed any contact with these boys without permission from their parents."

            Locke nodded, apologetically. "Yes, I know. Unfortunately that is what brings me here. Li's legal guardian is his uncle, Stringfellow Hawke. Mr. Hawke works for me." Locke paused and expelled a short breath. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but there's been a terrible accident. The boy's uncle has been critically injured. The company has sent me to bring Li home to his uncle."

            Mackenzie's brow furrowed in concern. "Just a minute," he said, and walked away from the men.

            "Becky!" he bellowed, as he stalked back towards the camp.

            The head counselor and rear guide came scurrying up to him. "Yes, Cal?"

            "Radio back to the ranch and ask Vera to pull up the emergency contact list for Li, will you?"

            "Right away, Cal." She said and headed for the chuck wagon, where the CB radio was kept. Li and Stevie had barely enough time to crouch down behind the boxes and cover themselves with a tarp before the sound of Becky's footsteps approached them. They listened as she called the ranch on the radio, and Vera the camp secretary answered her.

            "Vera, can you pull up the emergency contact list for Li Hawke?"

            "Oh dear, has he been hurt?" Vera's voice crackled slightly over the radio.

            "No, he's fine. We just need to get in touch with his family." Becky sent back.

            "One minute, dear. I'll pull it right up."

            From their spot inside the wagon, Li could hear the sound of more footsteps approaching, and his heart beat fast. It was the other men. He knew it.

            The radio crackled and Vera's voice returned. "Ok, Becky, I've got it right here."

            Cal picked up the mic. "Vera, Cal here. Can you read me off the emergency contact and pick-up list for Li Hawke?"

            "Certainly." The other woman said and they could hear a rustling of pages as she found the proper page.

            "Primary contact is his Uncle, Stringfellow Hawke, Van Nuys California."

            "And the secondary contacts?" 

            "Dominic Santini and Caitlin O'Shaughnessy, also of Van Nuys." Vera paused. "In fact, the same telephone number is listed for all three of them. Santini Air. It must be a work number."

            Calvin Mackenzie's voice hardened. "I thought you said Hawke worked for you."

            Locke seemed unperturbed. "He does. He worked for Santini as well; we were more of a part time job."

            Mackenzie's eyes traveled to the other two men. "I don't suppose either one of you happen to be named Santini."

            The other man in the black suit did not respond. The sandy haired man with the name "Rivers" stenciled on his flight suit shook his head. "No, sir."

            "And shore as hell none of you look like you're named Caitlin O'Shaughnessy, either," Mackenzie commented dryly as he picked up the radio again.

            "Vera, was there anybody else on that list?"

            "No, sir."

            "Thanks, Vera. That'll be all." Mackenzie said, signing out.

            Li heard the clunk as Mackenzie dropped the radio back into the box, and then turned to face the men. "Gentlemen, I don't know who in the hell you think you are, and frankly, I don't really give a damn. The only thing I care about is these kids that have been placed in my care. Now don't take this the wrong way, but it doesn't matter a damn to me what has happened to Li Hawke's uncle, I can't just turn him over to the first person who comes along with a sob story. I got to see to it that he's put into the charge of the proper people, and according to the list the boy's uncle left with me, you ain't them."

            "Mr. Mackenzie, we're wasting valuable time." The man called Locke protested.

            "No, you're wasting valuable time." Mackenzie snapped.  "If Stringfellow Hawke is really in such a bad way, where are the people who are supposed to come for the boy? Where is this Dominic Santini?"

            "Mr. Santini was involved in the accident as well." Locke replied.

            "What about O'Shaughnessy?" Mackenzie demanded.

            "Miss O'Shaughnessy was not able to come." Locke said evenly, "She has been at the hospital with Hawke and Santini ever since the accident. We offered to come and get the boy for her. She accepted."

            "Look," Mackenzie said firmly, "the fact remains that you are not authorized to take that boy anywhere. Until I see or speak to Miss O'Shaughnessy directly, that boy is staying right here."

            "Very well," Locke said and turned to his counterpart. "Jenkins, get Miss O'Shaughnessy on the phone for us, will you?"

            The other man in the suit stepped forward and hoisted the silver briefcase he had been carrying up onto the end of the wagon box. Unsnapping the locks, he opened it to reveal a satellite telephone. He dialed a number, listened as it rang, and then handed the phone to Locke.

            "Miss O'Shaughnessy? Jason Locke here. We are at the camp, but there seems to be a bit of a difficulty. They won't allow us to bring Le back without permission from you directly."

            Locke listened a moment, and then nodded. "Very well. If you don't mind, I'll put you on the speakerphone so everyone can hear you."

            Le listened, his heart pounding as a woman's voice came tentatively across the line.

            "Hello?"

            "Miss O'Shaughnessy?" Cal Mackenzie asked, still somewhat suspicious.

            "Yes." The woman, replied, sounding somewhat tired and distracted. 

            "Ma'am," Mackenzie said, "This is Calvin Mackenzie, the camp director here. I'm terribly sorry for all the trouble, but I have to be certain that I am doing the right thing, sending the boy with these gentlemen, seeing as how they're not on the contact list and all."

            "Oh, I understand perfectly, Mr. Mackenzie," the woman replied. "And it's all right, in fact, I'm glad of your concern. I would have come myself, but things have been so hectic here, what with both String and Dom being in such serious condition."

            "That's quite all right, ma'am." Mackenzie assured her. "I just need to verify that you are indeed who you say you are. Unfortunately, I don't have any of the paperwork here. If you could call the camp and speak to Vera, our secretary, she will ask you for the information we need. Then she'll just give me a holler on the radio and let me know everything's ok. I'll give you the phone number; it will only take a minute."

            "That will be fine, Mr. Mackenzie." Caitlin O'Shaughnessy said.

            Mackenzie waited as she rummaged around for a piece of paper to write on, and then rattled the number off to her. Locke ended the call, and then they waited an interminable five minutes before the radio once again crackled to life.

            "Base Camp to Mackenzie. Cal, are you out there?"

            Mackenzie picked up the radio. "Yeah, Vera. What have you got?"

            "Miss O'Shaughnessy called. The information she gave me checked out. I think it's all right for them to take the boy back to her."

            "Thanks, Vera. Mackenzie out." He tossed the radio back into the box.

            "Becky, go get Li. I think he's still over with the horses."

            "Sure thing." The woman said and hurried away.

            "Come on," Cal said to the three men. His stuff's over here in the other wagon. I'll help you find it."

            Beside him, Li felt Stevie begin to stir. Instinctively he clapped his hand over the other boy's mouth, and waited until the footsteps had faded away.

            "What are you doing?" Stevie demanded in a hushed voice. "They were going to take you to your uncle!"

            Li shook his head. "I don't think so. I know all the people my uncle works for in his other job. These guys weren't them. I've never seen them before."

            "What about the phone call?" Stevie asked.

            Again, Li shook his head. "I don't know who that woman was," Li said, feeling the fear coiling in his stomach. "But it didn't sound like Caitlin."

            "What are you going to do?" Stevie asked.

            "I don't know," Li said honestly, "But I'm not going with them." 

            He peered over the edge of the wagon box. He could see that Becky was already returning from the picket lines in a hurried step. Her search for him had obviously been unsuccessful. He needed to get away, fast.

            "Stevie," he said, "I think we need a diversion."


	8. Chapter Seven: The Search

Title: Wolf Hunt (continued)

Author: Lady Chal

Rating: PG-13 (mild language)

Classification: Angst/Adventure, Caitlin/String

Disclaimer: They don't belong to me, wish they did!

**************

**Chapter Seven: The Search**

            "Cal, I can't find him." Becky said. There was a hint of panic in her voice. "None of the boys seem to know where he is, and Stevie Michaels is missing, too."

            "Damnation!" Cal Mackenzie cursed under his breath. "I warned those boys about wandering off on their own! They picked a hell of a time to pull a stunt like this!"

            He drew a deep breath, "Are their horses still here?"

            Becky nodded.

            "All right then, they can't have gone far. Get everybody together. We'll fan out and look for them."

            "So where are we at, here Katie?" Doc's voice crackled inside Caitlin's helmet as she checked the tactical readout in front of her.

            "Our altitude is 2,000 feet, cruising speed 200 knots. Red Rock Mesa is 20 miles and closing. Our ETA is seven minutes."

            "Have we got any company?"

            Caitlin shook her head. "So far, the screens are clear. That doesn't mean we shouldn't be ready for it though."

            "You get the chips, I'll get the beer." Doc said, and sent Airwolf surging forward with a new burst of speed. 

            In a few minutes the rough cliffs and canyons surrounding Red Rock Mesa suddenly opened up before them.

            "I think this is it." Doc said.

            "Engaging long-range sensors and thermal scans." Caitlin called, reaching around behind her to access the surveillance panel. "Start sweeping in a five mile radius and work your way out from there."

            Doc eased back on the controls and banked the helicopter in a large, swooping arc, tilting the body of the craft so that the sensitive scanning devices mounted on the belly of the aircraft could easily sweep the rough terrain. They had flown in silence for another three minutes before Caitlin suddenly called out.

            "I've got a large group of contacts on the thermal sensors about five miles West Southwest of here. I think it's them."

            Her fingers rattled over the keyboard for a moment, and the exact coordinates suddenly appeared on the digital readout in the front of the cockpit. Doc noted the numbers, and readjusted his coordinates to match the numbers.

            They were nearly a mile from site when Caitlin's voice echoed loudly in Doc's ear.

            "Doc! Back off!"

            He quickly banked the chopper in a hard right turn and brought the chopper around. 

            "What is it?"

            "I've got a contact on the ground, --a chopper at the camp. I'm reading heat signatures off the engine. It must have just set down."

            "The Firm?"

            "Who else?"

            "Engage the whisper mode," Doc said, "I'm going to drop down to 500 feet and take us back for a closer look."

            Caitlin looked at him blankly. "You know about the whisper mode? Just how many times did you fly this thing, anyway?"

            "Only two," Doc admitted, but I was bored on the trip back from South America, so I read the operations manual."

            He flashed a grin at her over his shoulder, "Frankly, I've been dying to try this trick."

            "Suit yourself," Caitlin said, and engaged the dampening field. The heavy chop of the helicopter's rotors softened to a deep whisper.

            Keeping low to the landscape, Gifford guided the chopper along the ravines and over the ridges as they closed in on the camp site. When they were within a quarter mile of the camp, he slowed the aircraft and brought it into a silent hover behind a small ravine.

            "Can you get your readings from here?"

            "I'll try," Caitlin muttered. She ran a few commands into the computer. "According to the readings I got on the way in, it's a Jet Ranger. No armaments."

            A small beep came from the console and Caitlin frowned, "I'm picking up a radio signal."

            "Can we tap into it?  
            "Can eagles fly?" she tapped in another command on the keyboard and punched the button for the overhead speaker.

            They listened as a woman's soft western drawl filtered through the cabin.

            _"Base Camp to Mackenzie. __Cal__, are you out there?"_

_             "Yeah, Vera. What have you got?"_

_            "Miss O'Shaughnessy called. The information she gave me checked out. I think it's all right for them to take the boy back to her."_

_            "Thanks, Vera. Mackenzie out."_

            Caitlin felt the anger surging through her. Someone pretending to be her had called the camp, trying to get to Li. It looked as if they might succeed.

            Doc swore under his breath. "Damn, they've already gotten to him."

            Caitlin drew a deep breath. "Not necessarily," she said. There was still a chance, but it all depended upon Li.

            "What do you mean?" Doc asked.

            "Li knows not to go with anybody he doesn't know. If Hawke doesn't come to pick him up, then he's only supposed to go with Dominic or I –or in a stretch perhaps you or Michael, but then only if we call and say it's ok. If he's never seen them before at all, then he's not supposed to go with them, no matter what."

            "What if it is Archangel?" Doc wondered.

            "It's not." Caitlin said, with a certainty that had grown with every second of this continuing nightmare. "But if it were, it would be the first good thing that's happened yet."

            Stevie glanced at Li with more than a little apprehension showing in his eyes. "I don't know if this is such a good idea."

            "I don't know if it is, either," Li confessed, "but so far it's the only one I've got."

            They looked down the steep rocky side of the ravine that wound along the opposite side of the camp. "If you just tuck and roll like they showed us, it shouldn't hurt too much," Li said, "but I sure would watch where I start from, there's a nasty patch of cactus over there."

            "Great." Stevie said sarcastically, "I just hope this works; I'd hate to end up in the hospital for nothing."

            "It won't be for nothing," Li said. "Who knows? Maybe if you do it right you'll get a helicopter ride to the hospital like the kid who broke his arm last month."

            "Super." Stevie said. There was little enthusiasm in his voice.

            Li checked his watch. "Ok, give me about five minutes to work my way back to the horses, and then go for it. Start up such a howling ruckus that they'll know where to find you."

            Stevie eyed the cactus patch warily. "That may not be a problem." He said.

            "If you distract them enough, I'll be able to get to the horses and get a head start. Don't tell them anything, or tell them whatever you want, but just keep them busy for as long as you can. I'll need at least fifteen minutes to work my way into the rocks."

            "Li, those guys have a helicopter," Stevie reminded him. "It won't matter how far you go into the rocks, they'll be able to see you from the air."

            "I have a better chance of hiding from them in the rocks than I do out here on the plain," Li said. "Uncle String says that things can look just as confusing from the air as they do from the ground if you know how to use the terrain to your advantage."  
            "Do you think you can do it?"

            Li shook his head. "I don't know, but I've got to try. I've got a bad feeling about those men. I can't just go with them."

            "What do you think they want, anyways?" Stevie asked.

            "I don't know," Li said again. "But I think it must have something to do with my Uncle. This sort of stuff seems to happen to him all the time."

            Stevie stared at him, wide eyed. "All the time?"

            "Sometimes it seems that way." Li shrugged, "I'm not too worried. All I have to do is stay away from these guys. I'm sure that Uncle String's already on his way to come and get me."

            Stevie shook his head. "Man, you were right. If this kind of stuff happens to you all the time, I can see why excitement would be a real drag." He looked warily at the rocky slope below them. "I can't wait to go home and be bored." He said.

            Li clapped him on the shoulder. "Thanks, Stevie, I owe you one."

            Stevie nodded. "Take care, Hawke."

            Li nodded and rose to go. 

            "Hey, Li?" Stevie called after him.

            "Yeah?" Li asked.

            "You still got my address, right?"

            Li nodded, it was in his saddle bag.

            Stevie swallowed. "If you get out of this mess, drop me a line, ok? Let me know how it turns out. –Heck, for that matter call me."

            "Sure," Li said, "when's the best time to call?"

            Stevie grinned. "Anytime. If I do this right, I'll be grounded for a year. --I'll be real easy to get a hold of."

            The boys shook hands then, a quick, firm grip that was both a farewell and a silent expression of good luck. Then, with barely a sound, Li turned and made his way back into the rocks. In a moment, he was gone.

            Stevie drew a deep breath and glanced at his watch. Five minutes. He glanced uneasily at the rocky slope, choosing his path and steeling his resolve. "New York City, here I come," he muttered.


	9. Chapter Eight: The Diversion

Title: Wolf Hunt (continued)

Author: Lady Chal

Rating: PG-13 (mild language)

Classification: Angst/Adventure, Caitlin/String

Disclaimer: They don't belong to me, wish they did!

**************

**Chapter Eight: The Diversion**

By the time he reached the horses, Li was relieved to discover that no one was with them. All of the campers and counselors had been assembled in the camp to take a head count and make sure no one else was missing, before they broke up into search parties. He would be able to leave without being seen. 

            He was slightly out of breath as he made his way down the line to Jester, but he controlled his breathing in long slow breaths, the way Uncle String had taught him as they had rowed the old fishing boat across the lake on cool summer mornings for exercise. The stitch that threatened to cramp his side eased somewhat, and he spoke quietly to the gelding as he slipped between Jester and Stevie's mare, Blackbird.

            "Come on, Jest," He said, grabbing the gelding's bridle from the saddle horn and slipping it over the animal's head. "I need your help. We've got to make a run for it."

            Jester was reluctant to leave the herd, but Li prodded him firmly with his heels, and set the horse down the ravine towards the rocks. He hadn't gone far when Stevie's cries split the air. Li checked his watch. Five minutes. Good old Stevie, right on time.

            He followed the trail they had come in on for a few hundred yards before he spotted the place where the trail split off, and a steep rocky game trail led further down into the rocks, rather than out onto the desert plains. He and Stevie had explored it the day before on foot. It was rocky, and steep, and the counselors had forbidden them to ride it, but Li had a feeling that that had more to do with the inexperience of the riders than the horses. Jester did not look thrilled about it, but neither did he balk as Li gave him his head and leaned back in the saddle to help the horse's footing as he made his way down the rocky slope. 

            The horse took his time making his way down the trail, scuffling and skidding a bit as he did so, but his footing held. After a few minutes, the path leveled out, and found them walking a narrow ledge with a drop of perhaps twenty five feet below them, and a looming overhang of rock above them. He checked his watch again. Twenty five minutes since he'd ridden out of the ravine. They would be coming after him soon.

            The ledge they were riding along widened out and split again. The overhang above them disappeared. Li stopped the horse and studied the trail carefully, looking for sign of the animals that had used it. The upper trail was broader and seemed better going, but there was little sign of animal tracks upon it, save for a few rabbits. The lower trail that ran along the ledge was thinner and a bit steeper, but there was evidence of deer and larger animals. Li decided that if a deer was able to travel the path, then so might a horse, and hoping that the animals knew something he didn't, he set Jester once more on the rocky trail down.

            This time the trail was even more treacherous, and Li held his breath as Jester stumbled and skidded, trying to find purchase on the rocky ground. A fine sheen of sweat broke out on both horse and rider as they struggled to make their way down the ledge without losing their balance. After what seemed an eternity, the trail leveled out and widened again. Li halted the horse for a moment to let both of them catch their breath. He leaned over the gelding's neck and gave the horse a fierce hug.

            "Good job, fella." He said quietly. "We're almost out of here."

            Frankly, he wasn't entirely sure exactly where 'here' was, but he knew they had somehow managed to make it almost halfway down the side of the bluff. If he could get to the bottom, there was a stream where they could get water, and if he was able to find a path that followed along it, it would take them deeper into the canyon, where he might be able to hide and rest. He had his compass and a topographical map of the area in his saddlebag. He knew there was a truck stop only a few miles away. They had passed within site of it when they had ridden in here two days before. He would hide, and rest and wait until dark. Then he and Jester would try to find their way out of here and ride to the truck stop. He would call Uncle String he told himself, and everything would be ok.

            Unfortunately, that quiet little voice inside him chose that inopportune moment to remind him of what the man who called himself Locke had said. _There has been an accident. _

            "It's not true," Li told himself, but the fear that was creeping over him would not go away. "He was lying." Li said firmly, trying to convince himself. He reached down and patted the horse's neck. "You'll see, Jester. He was lying. Uncle String is fine. We'll make our way into town and call him and he'll come get us. Everything will be all right. You'll see."

            Jason Locke stood at the top of the rocky draw and looked down at the group of camp counselors who were clustered around the fallen boy. The boy, in question, was screaming his head off, and it was enough to give Locke a splitting head ache. Jenkins scrambled back up the slope to where he waited; the agent's impeccable black suit had collected dust and wrinkles in the effort.

            "Nothing." Jenkins spat. "No sign of the Hawke kid, and he says he doesn't know where he's at. They got split up on their way back to camp."

            "He's lying." Major Mike Rivers observed.

            Locke turned to see Rivers kneeling by a patch of sandy ground at the top of the slope. "What do you mean?"

            Rivers pointed at the edge of the slope. "This is where he went down. There are footprints here. –Two sets of them."

            "The Hawke kid was with him." Locke stated flatly, his glance skittering over the tracks on the ground.

            "That would be a logical assumption." Rivers said, he studied the tracks more closely and frowned.

            "What?" Locke said, catching onto his expression.

            "Look here," Rivers said, pointing out the tracks at the edge of the slope. "This is right where he went down. There's no sign of skidding or slipping. The track is perfectly crisp. He didn't fall."

            "You think he was pushed?" This came from Jenkins, who had dusted himself off and was also studying the tracks with interest.

            Rivers looked up, his eyes glinting in amusement. "I think he jumped."

            Caitlin fine tuned the long-range listening device, honing in even closer on the men's conversation.

            "_They planned it."_

            She recognized the voice. It was the same man who had answered the phone the night she'd tried to contact Archangel. What was his name? …Locke.

            "_I'd say so."  This was the man who had discovered the tracks. "__It's a diversion," the man continued. "__So that the other one could get away."_

            "Way to go, kid!" Gifford exclaimed.

            Caitlin sighed in relief. "They don't have him," she said. "Not yet, at least."

            "Where would he go?" Gifford asked her.

            "Wherever he could hide," Caitlin said. "He probably saw them coming in the chopper. He'll know they'll try to look for him from the air. He'll probably head for the ravines; try to lose himself into the rocks."

            "He'll go into the rocks," Rivers said, rising to his feet and heading back in the direction of the helicopter. "He saw us coming and knew something wasn't right. He must have overheard us. He and his buddy set this whole thing up to buy him some time to get into the canyon."

            "We'll find him." Locke said confidently, "he can't have gone far."

            "Maybe," River's tone was grim, "he's a smart kid, and his uncle's a pilot. He knows what the terrain will look like from the air, he'll know how to hide from us."

            "He can't hide forever." Locke returned, smoothly.

            Mike Rivers hesitated, turning his gaze to the jagged red spires and ravines that thrust themselves up from Red Rock Mesa. He had read Hawke's file. He had read about the kid. Neither Stringfellow Hawke, nor his nephew had had it very easy. Both were survivors. Somehow, he didn't think any of this was going to be as simple as Jason Locke seemed to think.


	10. Chapter Nine: Escape From Red Rock Mesa

Title: Wolf Hunt (continued)

Author: Lady Chal

Rating: PG-13 (mild language)

Classification: Angst/Adventure, Caitlin/String

Disclaimer: They don't belong to me, wish they did!

**************

**Chapter Nine: Escape from Red Rock Mesa**

            Li pulled up sharply on the reins as the distant sound of a helicopter reached his ears. He listened intently to the beat of the rotors and the pitch of the engine. It sounded like the same Jet Ranger that had landed at the camp. They were after him. He urged Jester faster down the trail, daring to risk a fast trot now that the path was somewhat level. There was a slight outcropping of rock up ahead and he pushed the horse toward it, stopping only when they were beneath the shadows of its broad overhang.

            Safely beneath it, he dismounted, and scrambled to the edge of the trail, where he could peer out from beneath it without being easily spotted. It was indeed the black helicopter, sweeping the sky in even arcs as it circled back and forth over the canyon below him. The sound of the chopper grew louder, and he scrambled back to Jester, pulling the horse deeper into the shadows of the overhang. He pressed his face into the animal's neck, his heart beating wildly as the chopper roared directly above them. For a moment, he was sure they had found him, but then they moved on and the sound of the chopper grew more distant as it moved off to search another ravine.

            He scrambled to the other side of the overhang. He was nearly to the edge of the bluff now, and the trail wound around to the other face of it, disappearing from his sight. He had no idea how far it was to the bottom, but he knew he could not stay here for much longer; eventually they would track him, and follow him here.

            The sound of the chopper had faded to a distant drone, but he was not fooled. If they did not find him soon, they would not go away. They would only call in more choppers to search for him, and it would be harder to escape. If he was going to go, he had to do it now. He gauged the distance to the turn in the trail. It was maybe a tenth of a mile. The path was wide and flat, he could make good time.

            Returning to the horse, he checked the cinch, and remounted. Then he dug in his heels and sent the animal forward in a fast trot. They made it around the bend in a matter of minutes, and he was elated to see that the trail on this side was good, too. It was fairly flat and smooth and not too narrow as it continued down the side of the bluff in a gentle slope. The canyon still dropped away to his left at a frightening angle. A quick glance told him that it was now nearly 300 feet to the bottom, but he didn't think about that as he urged the horse even faster.

            The sound of the helicopter engine was growing louder again, and if he were to make it to any kind of shelter, they were going to have to run for it.

            "Over there," Jenkins' voice crackled through Rivers' headset as he guided the helicopter around the backside of the bluff. "He's coming down the East face."

            Rivers and Locke both followed Jenkins pointing finger to the small splash of polished copper that nearly blended in with the dusty red walls of the bluff. It took him a moment to recognize it as a horse and rider, making their way along an ancient game trail that cut along the side of the bluff. They were moving fast, Rivers thought uneasily. --Much too fast for their own good.

            He watched as the small figure of the rider noticed them, tipping his face to the sky and staring for a moment as they drew ever nearer. He hoped that the boy might give it up then, stop and concede defeat. The kid had more guts than brains, though, for he kicked the horse into a canter that sent showers of stones flying from the animal's hooves to drop into the deep valley of the canyon below.

            "Christ," Rivers muttered, "He's going to get himself killed."

            He backed the chopper off, giving them some space lest it spook the animal and send both horse and rider plunging to their deaths below. He still wasn't sure just what it was Locke wanted with this kid, but whatever it was, he was damned if he was going to risk killing the boy to get it.

            Locke noted the widening distance and turned on Rivers.

            "What in the hell do you think you're doing!" He snapped, "Get after him!"

            Rivers eyed him coolly. "Whatever this kid is to you, he's no good to you dead. Give him some breathing room; let him make it to the table, where it levels out. There's only one other way down, and he can't get that far."

            "He could still make a run for it," Locke growled.

            "I doubt it," Rivers said. "That horse is about used up. Let him get safer ground. We can take him there safely without having to worry about him falling off a cliff."

            Li urged Jester on even faster, and spared only the quickest of glances for the helicopter circling above. It had backed off some, he noticed, but probably only because they were afraid of scaring the horse. He was glad of that. Both he and Jester needed every ounce of their concentration to negotiate the rocky path. He leaned in closer to the horse's neck, and saw the path widening before them to a broad and sweeping plateau. Just a little farther, he thought. Just a little farther and maybe then they could find another way down and really make a break for it.

            Too late, he saw the jagged crevice that opened up before them on the rocky path. Jester must have sensed it, though and skidded to a stop only a few scant feet from the treacherous opening. Li was unprepared for the sudden stop however, and was nearly catapulted from the saddle as the horse slid to a halt. Only his death grip on the reins and Jester's planted feet saved him, as he was tossed over the horse's neck towards the gaping hole in the trail. The gelding snorted warily and tried to toss his head in retaliation against the unexpected weight on his bridle. The reins pulled tight against Li's palm, the only thing preventing him from slipping down the crevice as he scrambled for footing against the loose rock of the cliff.

            "Easy, Jester!" He called, praying the horse wouldn't panic. "Easy, boy. Just hold still, I'll be there in a minute."

            Using the reins for leverage, he managed to get a foothold on the rocky ground and pull himself back up onto the path. The horse snorted, and bobbed his head nervously, eyeing the chasm with trepidation. Li couldn't blame him. It had to be all of six feet across, if not more. From the look of it, he guessed it must have been a rock slide. A boulder must have dropped from above, striking off part of the cliff and leaving this gaping hole in the path before them –the path that led to freedom.

            "It's ok, boy," Li muttered rubbing the horse gently behind the ears. The animal snorted and rubbed his forehead vigorously against Li's chest, leaving a dark stain of sweat and horsehair across the front of his shirt. "It's ok," he said again, staring dismally at the barrier before them. "We'll think of something."

            Rivers let out a slow breath of relief as he watched the boy pull himself back up onto the path and scramble to his feet beside the horse. For one horrible instant, he was certain the boy wasn't going to make it, but the kid seemed to have nine lives. _It must run in the family, he thought._

            The kid didn't get back up on the horse right away. Instead, he seemed to be talking to it, gathering up his own wits and that of the animals as he tried to determine the next step. Mike reached for the radio, and switched on the bullhorn. Maybe now was the time to try and talk him down.

            "It's all over son," Mike said, vaguely aware of his voice echoing against the walls of the canyon, and hoping it wasn't so loud that it would spook the horse. "It's the end of the line. You can't go any further, so you might as well just turn around and come back to camp."

            The boy had turned his face towards the helicopter, and seemed to be considering his words.

            "We don't mean you any harm, son." Rivers continued, soothingly. "We just want to take you back to your uncle. He's hurt pretty bad. He wants to see you. So why don't you just get back on the horse and come back the way you came? Then we can sit down with your camp counselors and talk about it if you like."

            The boy tossed one more reluctant glance toward the chasm, and the mesa and then nodded. Gathering his reins, he mounted his horse and started slowly back down the path in the direction he'd come from.

            "Well done," Locke said, watching as the boy and horse picked their way tiredly along the rocky ledge. "We can grab him on the trail when he comes off the bluff, --just before he gets to the camp, it will save us having to play twenty questions with the camp counselors."

            Rivers shot the man a dark look. "You really are a sonovabitch, you know that?"

            "Whatever it takes to get the job done, Mr. Rivers." Locke said tightly.

            Li spared one last glance at the hole in the trail. Six feet he judged, six and a half at most. He swallowed hard, could they do it? He didn't know. Maybe it was better to head back to camp. Sighing, he gathered up his reins and swung up onto Jester's back again, turning the horse back in the direction they had come. If he spoke to Mr. Mackenzie, he might be able to convince him that the woman on the radio hadn't really been Caitlin. Maybe he could stall them long enough until his Uncle or Dom or Caitlin really did show up.

            _But what if they didn't? The nagging little voice in the back of his mind argued. What was he going to do if these men actually did take him away? He didn't know who they were, but they acted like people from the Firm. They didn't work for Archangel, though, of that he was sure. Archangel's people dressed better, and Archangel would have come in person, or at least sent Marella. Dom had always said that the only person halfway trustworthy in that outfit was Archangel, and they didn't even trust him all the time, so whoever these guys were, Li was sure he couldn't trust them at all. They wanted him for some reason, maybe to control his uncle or get to Airwolf, and if that was the case, he knew he couldn't go with them._

            His eyes fell glumly to the trail in front of him as they slowly made their way back up the rocky path. It was then that he noticed his own tracks from their reckless descent down the trail. Jester's hoof prints were large and evenly spaced. Li judged the distance between them. Five feet, maybe a little more. He had been cantering the horse in a slow lope, too afraid to really open him up on the treacherous trail. He measured the stride again. Jester was a big horse, nearly sixteen hands, --and, as one of the counselor's had pointed out, he had a long back and underline, which allowed him to really stretch out in a ground-eating stride. Li considered the tracks. Could Jester stretch out another foot and a half?

            _Maybe, Li thought, __just maybe._

            They were reaching the corner of the bluff and they trail was beginning to narrow again, once they made that turn, there would be no going back. Although, if he decided to go through with what he was contemplating, there would be no going back that way either. He looked wryly at the deep canyon below them. It gave a whole new meaning to the term, between a rock and a hard place. He straightened in his saddle, a rush of adrenaline coursing through him at the thought, and spoke to the horse.

            "What do you say, Jester? Shall we try it?"

            The animal must have sensed his tension, for he danced and snorted, pulling at the bit and picking up into a trot.

            "I'll take that as a yes," Le said, and whirling the horse around with both rein and heel, he sent them galloping back down the path in a mad rush of thundering hooves and falling stones.

            Rivers paled as he saw the boy suddenly whirl the horse, and spur the animal into a dead run for the washout in the path.

            "Don't try it!" He said, more to himself than the boy, for he hadn't had time to snatch the radio back up.

            Beside him, he heard Locke swear viciously, and from the back of the cockpit he head Jenkin's awestruck "Goddamn."

            Rivers himself could only watch –and pray— as the red horse picked up even more speed, hurling both himself and his rider down the rocky trail at a terrifying pace, the boy clinging low to his neck. He could feel his own heart pounding in tempo with the anima's stride as he silently counted off the distance to the chasm. Twenty feet, twelve feet, six feet… 

He watched as the animal gathered itself for the leap, muscles bunching and rippling as the horse flung itself towards the void with every ounce of speed and strength it had to give. For one awful moment, his heart seemed suspended in his chest as he watched the horse soar across the crevice, the small, slim rider clinging fiercely to its back, the willing red legs stretching desperately for solid ground. They landed hard, the horse scrambling for footing, and finding it as they continued on along the trail towards the mesa.

"He's going to make a run for it." Locke said, as the horse and rider sped along the trail that now climbed the bluff. "If he gets to the other side, he can lose us in the rocks."

Frankly, Rivers was not so sure that would be a bad thing, but he said nothing as he brought the chopper into a climb over the top of the mesa. From here, he could see the distance the boy had come, and it amazed him that the kid had made it this far.

The mesa was not a completely smooth, flat plateau in the conventional sense of the term. Rather, this particular formation was more of a terraced bluff, with two smooth, flat tables, one of which rose 200 feet above the other. Somehow the boy had made it down from the other table to the lower one, which reached down into the depths of Red Rock Canyon.

There was a trail along the South face, less steep and in better condition than the one he'd arrived here on. If the kid found it, or knew it was there, Rivers knew he actually stood a chance of getting away.

Crosswinds in the canyon were not friendly to helicopters and the terrain offered plenty of overhangs and caves for the boy to hide in.

Fortunately, they were still high enough to be above the crosswinds, and Rivers easily closed the distance between them, sending the helicopter shooting forward to block their path to the trail.

            Li felt his heart sink in despair as the black helicopter swooped past him, blocking his escape. Slowing Jester to a trot, he allowed the gelding to catch his breath. They were trapped. He knew it as well as the men in the chopper. The Jet Ranger was advancing upon them now, pushing them slowly towards the narrow end of the table.

            The voice came over the bull horn again. It was not the voice of the man called Locke. Instead, Li saw, it seemed to be the pilot. The blonde man in the military flight suit was just barely visible in the cockpit. One hand was on the stick, guiding the chopper; the other held the radio as he spoke.

            "Come on, son," the voice was gentle. "Give it up now, before you or your horse gets hurt. You've made a good try, but you can't go any further. We both know it's time to put an end to this."

            Li reined in the horse cautiously, not quite ready to concede defeat, but knowing he was out of options. The path before them was blocked, and the edge of the cliff was to their back. He cast a glance over the edge of the mesa. It wasn't encouraging. Behind them was nothing but a sheer drop to the depths of the canyon below. The game was over, and they had lost, he thought ruefully.

            It was then that he felt it: the merest whisper of a breeze that quickly churned into a screaming halcyon. It whipped around him and the horse like a wild banshee, and he could not help but grin, even as he fought to keep Jester from bolting in fear. The animal snorted and spun around to see what monster had come up from behind him, but Li didn't have to look to know what it was. The eagle scream of the turbine engines were as familiar to him as the voice of a friend. It was Airwolf, rising up from the cliff behind him like an avenging angel.

            The sleek black craft pushed its way forward, chain guns extended, creamy white belly skimming the ground as it inserted itself between Li and the Jet Ranger. Having determined that it was not a monster, but simply another machine, Jester calmed somewhat, and ducked his head against the wind from the chopper rotors.

            Li watched in relief as one of the doors popped open with an audible hiss and a familiar figure beckoned to him. 

            "Li! Come on!" Caitlin yelled.

            He needed no further urging, but scrambled down off the horse. He took only a moment to strip the bridle from the gelding's head, and pat the sweaty neck. "Sorry boy, he said hastily, wishing there was time to give the animal his due reward. "I wish I could take you with me."

            "Li! Let's go!" Caitlin shouted again.

            He saw one of the men jump from the helicopter and then watched in disbelief as Caitlin dropped into a crouch and squeezed off three rounds in the direction of the Jet Ranger. The gunfire spurred him on with a fresh burst of speed, and he made it to the open door a second later.

            Caitlin half pulled, half shoved him into the helicopter, and quickly scrambled in behind him.

            "Creeps," she muttered, pushing Li into the empty seat beside the tactical station. "Give them something to think about," she suggested.

            Gifford squeezed the trigger briefly, deploying a short, staccato burst from the chain guns that strafed the ground at the men's feet. Then he angled the nose of the lady up a few degrees and fired another burst, striking sparks along the top of the Jet Ranger. The hail of bullets tore into the rotor assembly, and smoke began to pour from the other craft.

            He banked Airwolf sharply then, gaining speed and altitude as they moved away from the mesa, putting distance between themselves and the would-be kidnappers.

            Li had only barely managed to strap himself into his seat before Caitlin wrapped him in a fierce embrace.

            "Li Van Hawk!" she exclaimed, "I don't know whether to kiss you or kill you. You scared the life out of me, jumping that horse like you did!"

            "That was so cool, wasn't it?" Li said excitedly.

            "Cool? You could have been killed!" 

            Li peered out the window at the mesa, which was quickly vanishing behind them. Jester was now little more than a tiny red fleck on the top of the bluff.

            "I hope Jester will be all right, too." Li said sincerely, "I'd never have made it out of there without him."

            "Don't worry about him," Caitlin said reassuringly. "If there's one thing any horse can do, it's find his own way home. He'll be back to his buddies before lunch time."

            Li was silent a moment, contemplating his next question.

            "Kate?" He asked softly, keeping his voice low so the pilot couldn't hear him. "Do you think when we get home Uncle String will let me have a horse?"

            Caitlin rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Lord, I hope not!"


	11. Chapter Ten: Uncomfortable Possibilities

Title: Wolf Hunt (continued)

Author: Lady Chal

Rating: PG-13 (mild language)

Classification: Angst/Adventure, Caitlin/String

Disclaimer: They don't belong to me, wish they did!

**************

**Chapter Ten: Uncomfortable Possibilities**

            Mike Rivers swung down from the saddle and gave the tired horse a solid clap on the shoulder. "Good job, old fella. It's not far now."

            They were, he judged, about a quarter of a mile from the camp, and he needed the opportunity to stretch his legs, almost as much as the horse needed the rest. He checked his chronometer. It had taken him about forty minutes to ride down the other side of the mesa and back up the trail to the camp. Locke had been having kittens when he left. The chopper was crippled, the radio was out and for some reason, and the damned satellite phone couldn't get a clear signal on the mesa. By now, River thought, Locke would have graduated from kittens to puppies. _No, make that Dobermans. Hell, by the time he actually had contacted the Firm and actually gotten another chopper out here, Locke would have skipped over cows and gone straight to having a Brahma bull._

            Not that Rivers was overly concerned about it. The bastard had it coming.

            He'd never liked endangering women and children unnecessarily. It happened often in war. –Sometimes too often, but that was one of the cold facts of guerilla warfare. Innocent civilians were used as cover, and too often, they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. –Or they were willing participants, giving aid and shelter to the enemy.

            But this was different. The last time he'd checked, Stringfellow Hawke was not the enemy. He was one of their own, a pilot and an operative who'd risked his life in over 100 missions for the Firm. He'd read the file on all of them: Hawke, Santini, and even the O'Shaughnessy woman. They weren't the type to turn, no matter what Locke seemed to believe, and as far as Rivers was concerned, making a grab for the kid was the stupidest thing they could have done.

            He knew why Locke wanted the boy: insurance. In the event that Hawke woke up, Locke needed the leverage to make sure that Hawke would turn over Airwolf. Hawke knew it too, had known it for sometime and –judging from the morning's events-- had planned for just such an occasion.

            The O'Shaughnessy woman had been the key, Rivers saw now. Locke had underestimated her, and she had dodged them at every turn. She knew where Airwolf was. Hell, right now she had the damned thing in her possession, and she had used it to come for the boy, knowing that the Firm would try to make a grab for him. Rivers shook his head and swore softly. It was going to be even more difficult now. She was convinced the Firm was out to get them –and she wasn't necessarily wrong about that. Furthermore, she might even believe that the Firm was behind Santini's death and Hawke's accident.

            The thought brought Rivers up short. Was it possible? He frowned and considered the evidence: Archangel's mysterious transfer, the accident, and the rumors of St. John Hawke turning up alive… Hell yeah, it was possible. He pushed the thought away. Much as he didn't like the possibility, it did not affect him directly. It was also counterproductive to the task at hand: which was to find and obtain Airwolf.

            However, it did give him a small window into the mind of Caitlin O'Shaughnessy. If she believed the Firm was behind all of this, then it certainly was not going to make his job any easier. Even if he did find her, he would have a hell of a time convincing her to turn Airwolf over to him.

            _What would she do with it? He wondered. Tempting though it might seem, he doubted she'd keep it. A machine such as Airwolf could be as much a liability as an asset. Even disguised as an expensive executive helicopter, Airwolf would be noticed. Money was always noticed, and Airwolf would require lots of money to maintain. Its fuel consumption was fairly high and with the Firm providing the munitions, it would only be a matter of time before she ran through the supply of ammunition Hawke and Santini had undoubtedly stockpiled. She would know that the Firm would be looking for it …and her._

            No, Rivers decided. She wouldn't keep it.

            He didn't believe she would trade it, either. Caitlin O'Shaughnessy did not seem like the type to sell out or cut deals with terrorists. Her file had not been as thick as the ones on Hawke and Santini, but the background check was no less thorough. She had been a deputy Sheriff with the Texas Highway Patrol, and was currently serving in the National Guard, after transferring her hitch from Texas to California. Her family was quiet, middle class, and her father had served in the Marines. Patrick O'Shaughnessy had been a decorated fighter pilot during World War II, and by all accounts his four daughters had adored him. He somehow sensed that the daughter of a Marine Corps fighter pilot would not be a likely candidate to commit treason against her country, no matter what the stakes. In spite of the Firm's fears, Rivers did not believe that even the possibility of trading Hawke's brother for Airwolf posed that much of a threat. Santini was dead, Hawke was out of commission, and Caitlin O'Shaughnessy probably didn't even know about it. –And if she did, Rivers thought, he wasn't so sure she gave a damn. She had never met St. John. She felt no loyalty towards him, as she did his brother and Santini. Her first concern would be the boy. She would not risk him, or herself, even if it meant saving his father.

            She would probably return it to its hiding place, he decided, and then run like hell and pray the Firm wouldn't find her. –If she was lucky, they wouldn't. But if he was right, then perhaps things were looking up for his mission after all. He'd had a feeling that he was closing in on the helicopter, even before Locke's little detour to Arizona. He knew it had to be close, probably somewhere between Van Nuys field and Hawke's cabin in Bear Valley. He had interviewed Dr. Menske, who had worked with Hawke and Santini to purge the virus Donald Moffat had planted in the helicopter's computer systems two years before. They had taken her to the hiding place blindfolded, but she had seen enough to know they were somewhere in the Valley of the Gods. Unfortunately, the Valley of the Gods was a big place, and satellite scans had turned up nothing as of yet. He could spend six months searching every gopher hole and turning over every rock and he still might not find the damned thing.  He needed a little more to go on than that, and he had a feeling that Josephine Santini was the key.

            She had grown up with String and St. John, had played with them as children. She had mentioned to him in passing that Dom and String's parents used to take them camping there as children. If anyone had a clue as to where Hawke and Santini had hidden Airwolf, it was probably her. –He just had to convince her to help him. He really should go and talk to her again.

            Rounding the corner of the bend, he stopped and drew a breath as the camp appeared before him, looking more like a stirred up ant hill than a boy scout camp as campers and counselors alike scrambled around in hurried activity. One of the counselors noticed him and hailed the camp director, who wasted no time in mounting a horse and galloping the rest of the way out to meet Rivers.

            "Where's the boy?" Calvin Mackenzie demanded. Anger and concern were mingled in equal proportions across his face.

            "Safe." Rivers assured him. "We caught up to him a few miles out, and explained things to him. He's probably with Ms. O'Shaughnessy by now."

            That much at least, was the truth, Rivers thought grimly. Knowing the way the Firm operated, it was about as much of the truth as the man was likely to get about the events that had happened this day.

            He handed the reins of the gelding over to the camp director. "I told them I'd bring back your horse. Can I use your radio to call for a ride?"

            Mackenzie glared at him suspiciously. "I'll arrange one for you myself, if it will get you the hell away from my program."

            Rivers nodded. He didn't blame the man. In fact, he privately sympathized with him. It was not a comfortable feeling. He had a sneaking suspicion that if he continued his work with the Firm, it might be a feeling he would have to learn to live with.


	12. Chapter Eleven: A Question of Trust

Title: Wolf Hunt (continued)

Author: Lady Chal

Rating: PG-13 (mild language)

Classification: Angst/Adventure, Caitlin/String

Disclaimer: They don't belong to me, wish they did!

**************

**Chapter Eleven: A Question of Trust**

_Hawke's Cabin_

_Bear__Valley___

_Tuesday, July 29, 1986_

            Josephine Santini kicked at the small stone under her foot, sending it skittering down the path in front her as she cursed herself for a fool. No way was Caitlin O'Shaughnessy going to show. She was probably half a world away by now, taking String's nephew and the Firm's fancy helicopter with her.

            She believed it now. She believed every word of the improbable tale Jason Locke had told her about String and Dom and the billion dollar aircraft they had stolen from the Firm and ransomed for information about St. John's whereabouts. She believed it even more after that Army officer, Major Rivers had shown up at her door last night, asking more questions about String and Dom and their flying habits and flight plans. She sighed as she stared down to the boat dock, where the sole surviving Santini Jet Ranger was landed. The only thing she did not believe was that Caitlin O'Shaughnessy would keep her end of the bargain and deliver her the helicopter.

            God knew she wouldn't have, were she in the other woman's shoes. If she'd had a piece of equipment like that in her hands, she would be far too tempted to take the boy and run as fast and far as the chopper would take her. No, she thought, pacing the length of the dock, she would not come here if she were Caitlin O'Shaughnessy. This would be an obvious place for the Firm to watch. Bringing the chopper here would be tantamount to waving a fox's tail in front of a pack of hounds. 

            Jo sighed. She honestly didn't know what she was doing here, wasting her time, except….they had trusted her. Dom and String had trusted this woman, this…stranger. Dom had trusted her with his beloved antique airplanes and String had trusted her with Li. The fact that the two of them had let her in on their top-secret stolen helicopter spoke volumes in itself. Neither String nor Dom were men who trusted easily, and it made Jo wonder how in the hell Caitlin O'Shaughnessy had slipped under their radar. Hell, they hadn't even told _her about any of this, Jo thought viciously, and she was family! That was what made her so damned mad about this whole situation._

            Of course, she reflected as she turned the problem over in her mind, there was also another perspective to be considered. If she had no reason to trust Caitlin O'Shaughnessy, Caitlin O'Shaughnessy had even less reason to trust her. The Santini women had not made a very good accounting of themselves with the fiery tempered Texan. First there was the whole thing with Jo's Cousin Holly going off the deep end and trying to kill Caitlin in some jealous delusion over String. And then, to top it off, there had been that whole fiasco with Dom's ex-wife and daughter that had landed him in prison on murder charges. When she had told Caitlin of her own conversation with Jason Locke, it was little wonder the woman had regarded her with suspicion.

            Jo glanced again at her watch. It was 8:55. The five minute wait seemed both endless and pointless. 

            "What am I doing here?" she muttered to herself. God knew the O'Shaughnessy woman would have probably said anything just to get away from her, and there were a hundred other things she should be doing instead of waiting for a woman that was never going to show. She should be finishing the arrangements for Dom's funeral. She could be sitting at String's bed side, wondering which one of the shallow, raspy breaths was going to be his last. She could be back at the office, sitting at Dom's desk and staring at the four walls as she fingered St. John's ring and thought of him waiting in some nameless hell hole for a rescue that would never come. There, she thought glumly, was her answer. There were other things she could be doing, but none of them were better than this. Here, at least, was hope. –At least for the next five minutes.

            Shivering against the damp chill of the morning air, Jo thrust her hands deep into the pockets of her old bomber jacket. Her fingers encountered the sharp metal corner of the picture frame. She had taken it from the mantel over String's fireplace only a few minutes before. Finding herself at loose ends upon her arrival, she had gone into the cabin to feed the dog. –If indeed there still was one. She had called and called, but there was no sign of Tet. For a moment, she wondered if someone else had come for the animal and made her way slowly through the cabin, checking for any signs of disturbance. Unfortunately, she was not familiar enough with String's home to discern if anything was missing. Even still, there was an unearthly stillness to the house, an air of abandonment, a sense of life disrupted and never to be resumed. Dom's quarters had felt much the same way and Jo found herself fleeing the cabin as she had fled the hangar with its forlorn silence and air of tragedy.

            It had been the tiny snapshot on the mantel that had caught her eye as she was leaving. She found her steps slowing, found herself pausing, saw her own trembling hand reach up to touch the faces half-forgotten but still so dear. --Stringfellow …and St. John.

            God, she'd forgotten how handsome he'd been. She had thought she had remembered --had found herself surreptitiously watching String these past few days, noting and savoring the small traits –the little movements and expressions—that so hauntingly echoed those of his older brother. Were it not for the raspy baritone of String's voice, she might not have been able to recall what he sounded like all together. She knew somehow that it was richer, warmer than that of his younger brother's, but time had faded it to a dull whisper that spoke in echoed fragments from the corners of her heart.

            _There now, Josie, don't you go getting all weepy on me. String and I'll be home before you know it._

            Except before she knew it, it had been twelve years, and all she had were a few old photographs and faded memories. Taking the small, framed picture from her pocket, Jo looked at it once more, finally able to admit to herself what she had not been able to admit to St. John in that dirty, crowded bus station all those years ago, when she and Dom and Holly had bid the brothers goodbye as they left for Vietnam. She had loved St. John Hawke. Perhaps it had been a foolish, girlish first love, but it had never really gone away, and as she stood there, staring at the carefully framed photo from String's fireplace, she knew that she loved him still. Like String, St. John's absence had left her somehow …incomplete.

            That, she knew, was why she was standing here, waiting on this damp and chilly dock for a miracle that was never going to…

            "Oh …My God!" she breathed, feeling the soft rise of the breeze around her before she actually heard it: the howl of engines that seemed eerily alive. It skimmed above the water like the shadow of the eagle, moving fast and low as it swooped towards the cabin. It was, Jo Santini thought, the most beautiful thing she had ever seen –and the most lethal.

            She raked a hand through her hair in an effort to keep her short, ash blonde bangs from blowing in her eyes as the aircraft drew nearer. She was nearly deafened by the throaty keen of the engines as the helicopter passed low above her head, showing its clean white belly as it passed. The aircraft came to hover above a small flat clearing beside the cabin –not far from where String chopped wood—and the three small wheels of the landing gear lowered to gain purchase on the rocky ground.

            The engines cut out and the props slowly wound down with a low moan that eventually faded to silence. For a long moment, the slim dark figure in the cockpit regarded her intently, and then the gloved hands removed the heavy black helmet to reveal the flame red hair of Caitlin O'Shaughnessy. They stared at each other for a long while through the armored glass of the windscreen, blue eyes locking with brown, each assessing the other. Then, with a soft, predatory hiss the hatch door released, and Caitlin O'Shaughnessy stepped from the helicopter.

            Surprised as Jo was that the woman had actually kept the meeting, she was not at all startled by the sight of the .45 Colt automatic. The red haired woman held it easily, flat against her thigh, barrel pointing towards the dirt, but ready to bring it to bear in a moments notice if necessary. Caitlin O'Shaughnessy might be many things, but she was obviously nobody's fool.

            "You came," Jo said, and was half embarrassed by the thought that rushed from her lips before she could control it.

            "I came," O'Shaughnessy said with more than hint of reluctance. "--Against my better judgment."

            Jo took a step forward and immediately froze as the .45 was leveled upon her chest.

            "Stop," Caitlin said firmly. "You and I need to talk first."

            Jo nodded. This woman had no reason to trust her, and even less to hand over the helicopter. –Especially when it was the only bargaining chip she had left.

            "I didn't tell the Firm," Jo said quietly.

            The other woman nodded. "I know. If you had, I wouldn't be here. It would have set off every bell on the Lady's scope."

            The Lady, so that was what they called her. Jo felt a small constriction in her throat as she remembered Dom's cryptic notations in the old calendar he kept on his desk. _Fly with Hawke & the Lady. Bring dinner. At the time, she'd teased him about having a secret girlfriend. She should have known. Dom had once told her that the only ladies who had ever been true to him were his aircraft and her. But as she stared down the barrel of Caitlin's .45, she was starting to think there was one more woman he should have added to the list._

            Jo took a careful step back, raising one palm towards Caitlin as she did so. "Ok," she said nervously, "Just don't point that thing towards me, ok?"

            The hard blue eyes narrowed and Caitlin shook her head. "No," she said, her voice quiet. She jerked her head towards the cabin. "Up against the wall, and spread 'em."

            Uneasily, Jo complied, careful to make no sudden movements as she walked up the short path to the cabin and "assumed the position" against the rough log walls. She vaguely remembered Dom telling her that his female pilot had once been a deputy Sheriff. Obviously the woman had not forgotten her training. The hands that frisked her were quick and efficient, missing nothing, not even the hard square of the picture frame that resided in the pocket of Jo's jacket. The picture was extracted by one small, deft hand and a long moment of silence followed.

            Jo risked a glance over her shoulder at the other woman. She did not really know Caitlin O'Shaughnessy, but from their brief encounter the previous evening, she seemed to be the type of person whose face openly demonstrated her thoughts.

            At this particular moment, however, the mixture of emotions that flitted across the woman's face was so jumbled that Jo could not begin to decipher them. Sadness, anger, love and even hatred all seemed to war for position in the china blue eyes as she stared down at the snapshot of the two brothers. Wordlessly, Caitlin holstered her gun and handed the picture back to Jo.

            "Come on," she said quietly, "It's not safe to talk here."

They passed the first twenty minutes in total silence. Whether the other woman did it to gather her own scattered thoughts, or to allow Jo time to marvel at the wonder of aviation that was Airwolf, Jo was uncertain, but by the time they had rocketed away from Bear Valley and hovered some two miles above some nameless point in the flat alkali plains of Death Valley, they both found themselves ready to speak.

            "How's String?"

            "How's Li?"

            Their questions toppled out simultaneously, the words tumbling over one another in a way that made each of them smile nervously.

            Caitlin turned to Jo, and the blue of her eyes softened just a shade. "He's fine. We got to him just in time. Your friend Mr. Locke didn't appear to be very happy about it, though."

            "I wouldn't doubt it." Jo murmured. "Where's Li now?"

            "He's with a friend. Someone the Firm doesn't know about." The blue eyes hardened again, ending that line of questioning, and Jo wondered if the friend in particular was not also the other half of the mysterious "we" who had participated in the boy's retrieval.

            "What about String?"

            Jo sighed, wishing her news was as happy. "It doesn't look good," she said gently. "He slipped into a coma last night. His brain activity seems to be fading. The doctors have put him on life support."

            "He's giving up," Caitlin whispered.

            Jo watched as the other woman's hand tightened on the stick. _She loves him, Jo realized, and swallowed hard against the tightness that clenched at her throat once more. "I think," she began and then drew a deep breath. "I think he'd be gone already, except…"_

            "Except what?" Caitlin's words, so softly spoken were little more than a hoarse whisper inside Jo's helmet.

            "I think he's waiting for St. John." Jo finished.

            She was unprepared for the explosion that followed.

            "Damn him!" Caitlin spat, "Damn St. John Hawke straight to Hell!" She let go of the stick and swore viciously, slamming her fists against the console. "Damn him for being alive after all these years! Damn him for expecting String to get him out of this! Why the hell couldn't he have just died all those years ago and been done with it?"

            The aircraft, drifting aimlessly without her hand to guide it, caught a gentle draft of wind and lurched slightly, sending Jo's hands scrambling for the controls in front of her. She let the helicopter level out, marveling at the smooth way it handled and then turned to the woman at her side. O'Shaughnessy sat still and silent for a long moment, her helmet torn off and cast aside, and her face buried in her black gloved hands as she struggled to regain her composure.

            At last, she reached for the helmet, and tugged it back down onto her head. "I'm sorry," she said finally, her voice sounding soft and thin inside the com system of Jo's helmet.

            "It's all right," Jo said quietly, "I've only wanted to tell St. John that for the last twelve years or so."

            She shot Caitlin a sideways glance. "What are you going to do?"

            The slender Texan shook her head and slumped back in her seat. "I don't know," she confessed. "They won't give any of us any peace until they have Airwolf, but I can't give her to them. The only reason we're still alive right now is because they don't have the faintest idea of where she is. If they kill us before then, they'll never find her."

            Jo stared at her in wide-eyed amazement. "You can't believe that they would actually—"

            "They already have," Caitlin said tiredly.

            The words sent a chill coursing through Jo. _Oh God. No. Not that. "No," she said hoarsely, "No, it wasn't them. Locke said it was the Iraqis. He said they were trying to force String's hand."_

            "He would," Caitlin said dryly. She shrugged. "And why not? It's a plausible theory. –I even considered it myself. But it's not the only one."

            "What are you saying?" Jo demanded.

            The other woman turned to face her, leveling her with the weight of her sapphire gaze. "When it comes to the Firm, String and Dom taught me that there's only one rule to remember: Never trust them --at least not completely."

            "You think they were behind this?" Jo asked, feeling cold rope of icy fear snake through her gut. _God, no! Not Dom. Not String. Not that._

            Caitlin lifted one shoulder in a listless gesture. "It's a definite possibility. –One I'm starting to consider more and more as this goes on."

            "But Dom and String worked for them!" Jo protested. "They were on their side!"

            Caitlin shook her head. "No. They weren't. One thing you have to realize about the Firm is that it only has one side and one interest: its own."

            Jo shook her head. "I don't believe it. They couldn't actually do something like that. –Not to their own people!"

            Caitlin did not reply, but her intense silence spoke volumes and Jo understood that the slim, red-haired woman truly believed the words she had uttered.

            Jo shook her head harder, blinking back the tears that threatened to engulf her. It couldn't be true. It couldn't. The Firm was the only hope she had of getting St. John back, if she couldn't count on them, who was left? She drew in a deep shuddering breath. "But Locke said—"

            "Locke will say anything to get his hands on this machine." Caitlin said grimly. "He works for the Firm. You can't trust him."

            Seeing Jo's look of doubt, Caitlin sighed heavily. "Look, maybe I'm wrong. Maybe Locke is telling you the truth and the Firm didn't have anything to do with this. But what if he isn't? You can't risk that. I can't risk that. Whatever you tell Locke, one thing is certain: he will take it back to his superiors and they are the ones calling the shots in this game. The Committee is your most dangerous enemy. Never forget that."

            "How can you be so sure of all this?"

            Caitlin regarded her carefully, at last coming to some silent decision. "In the entire Firm, there was only one person that Hawke and Dom ever came close to trusting: Locke's predecessor, a man called Archangel. He was the man Hawke originally made the deal with. Hawke told me that when the package from St. John showed up, he went to the Firm to see Michael, but Locke met with him instead. He was told that Michael had been transferred to director of operations for in the Middle East."

            "You don't believe it?"

            Caitlin shook her head. "Michael wouldn't have gone so quietly. Not without a fight. Airwolf was his project ...his baby."

            She reached into the zippered pocket on the sleeve of her flight suit and extracted a slip of paper. It was a folded newspaper clipping. "We were cut off from Michael once before, when the committee tried to replace him and take Airwolf back by force. After that, String and Dom set up a drop box where he could contact us if something like that ever happened again. I checked it out this morning. I found this."

            Jo took the paper from her fingers and unfolded it. It was a short article with a photograph of a ruggedly handsome, fair haired man, mustached and bespectacled and dapperly attired in a white suit. From the weathered face, she guessed him to be a good ten years older than Hawke, and there was a sparkle to his eyes that lent him an aura of benevolence and good humor. She could see why String and Dom might have been tempted to trust him. She would have too, much more so than the dark and severe Jason Locke. She studied the picture more closely. Judging from the cut of the clothes, she suspected the picture was old, but the date of the paper was yesterday. Then she looked more carefully at the article. It was an obituary, announcing the death of a former U.S. diplomat in a car accident in Washington D.C. It was dated a week ago.

"Who do you think sent it?" Jo asked.

            "Probably his assistant," Caitlin said. "She was loyal to him, and I think she genuinely liked Hawke and Dom. She would have tried to warn us if she could."

            "Jesus," Jo murmured. "What _are we going to do?"_

            Caitlin O'Shaughnessy stared intently, her gaze clearly assessing the small blonde woman in the co-pilot's seat. "If I were to let you have Airwolf," she said at last, "what would you do with her?"

            "I'd get St. John back." Jo said, not even hesitating to consider the question.

            Caitlin frowned. "That kind of operation will take a full crew, a pilot, a weapons control officer and someone to go out and get him. You can't do it alone. –Even String wouldn't have tried it."

            "I don't intend to do this alone," Jo informed her, "but right now I won't be able to do anything unless you show me how to fly this bird."

            Caitlin still looked doubtful. Jo sighed and made one last attempt. "Look, Kate, I understand. You can't afford to tangle with the Firm anymore, and you can't put Li at risk. You're wondering right now if you can trust me to take this thing off your hands and not turn it over to the bad guys." Jo shook her head. "I wouldn't do that, it would be going against everything Dom and String believed in, but I can't just leave St. John out there. I've got to try to get him back."

            The Texan's silence weighed heavily upon the air, and Jo drew one last deep breath. "Don't you see? This is our chance. –Maybe our only chance. If I take Airwolf, and they know I have her, they will be so busy looking for me they won't bother with you and Li. It will buy you the time you need to get away. And if I have Airwolf, I at least have a shot of getting to St. John. Without her, I don't even have that.

            "Please Kate;" she said softly, "I need you to trust me on this…for both our sakes."

            "I can't risk letting her fall into the wrong hands," Caitlin said doubtfully. "What if you get caught?"

            "If that happens," Jo promised. "I'll destroy her myself."

            For the first time Jo believed she saw the hint of a smile creep into the Texan's china blue eyes. "I believe you would." Caitlin agreed.

            Jo looked impatiently at Caitlin. "So are you going to teach me how to fly this thing, or what?"

            Caitlin chuckled softly and nodded to the stick that Jo and unconsciously been handling for the last few minutes. "I think we've already started."


	13. Chapter Twelve: Flying Lessons

Title: Wolf Hunt (continued)

Author: Lady Chal

Rating: PG-13 (mild language)

Classification: Angst/Adventure, Caitlin/String

Disclaimer: They don't belong to me, wish they did!

**************

**Chapter Twelve: Flying Lessons**

            As crash courses went, it was probably the most intensive flight instruction Jo had ever experienced. Caitlin spent several hours with her, going through all the gauges and panels, explaining the systems and operating instructions as well as the capabilities of the aircraft.

            "Mach one?" Jo exclaimed, wrinkling her nose in disbelief. "No chopper can go that fast!"

            Caitlin merely looked at her, and then engaged the jet thrusters. The force slammed both of them back into their seats as they raced above the desert floor at heart-stopping speed.

            "My God!" Jo gasped, "What else can she do?"

            Caitlin's blue eyes twinkled, and she indicated for Jo to move back to the tactical weapons control station. "Don't touch _anything unless I tell you to." O'Shaughnessy instructed sternly. "The first time String took me up; I accidentally hit the wrong button and darned near blew us up. This thing is a killing machine, not a toy."_

            Jo nodded and then listened patiently as Caitlin explained all the weapons controls and their release codes.

            "If you get mixed up, there's a bunch of sticky notes stuck on the bottom of the console," Caitlin said. "I found them by accident a while back. I think they were Dom's cheat sheets."

            Lifting up the keyboard, Jo found one of the small yellow slips of paper and pulled it out. Her throat swelled as she saw the list of command codes written in her uncle's cramped, cryptic hand. For a moment, she could almost picture him here; his heavy black brows furrowed in concentration as he struggled with what must have seemed to him a disconcerting array of "new-fangled technology."

            They spent the entire day in the air, each alternating between the pilot's seat and the weapon's control as Caitlin patiently tried to pack two year's worth of knowledge into Jo's head in only a matter of hours.  Finally, just as the sun was starting to wane in the sky, Caitlin directed Jo to turn south, towards the Valley of the Gods.

            "It's incredible," Jo murmured as she felt the stick glide gently under her hand. "She practically banked that turn on her own."

            Caitlin froze, her blood chilling in her veins as she realized what Jo was talking about. She could still remember the first time she had noticed it, he first time she had felt the stick automatically move under her hand almost as if she had willed it. She had darted a small nervous glance at String.

            _"She practically did that by herself. It's almost as if this thing can read my mind."_

_            "It can." String had said simply, but the fact of the matter was there was nothing simple about it._

String and Dom had learned early on that Airwolf possessed a living memory, the result of Moffett's forays into the burgeoning field of artificial intelligence. The onboard computer had the capability to learn from its previous experiences, and thus anticipate its pilot's actions for an overall quicker and more seamless response time. In order to achieve this, the onboard computer recorded every moment of every mission that the helicopter flew, from the time it lifted off, to the moment it landed. It recorded tactical and physiological data for every member of the crew, including the pilot, co-pilot and tactical officer, and was able to discern the difference in a new pilot or crew member and automatically create a separate profile for each. Airwolf possessed detailed data on String and Dom as well as Caitlin herself. 

It had been somewhat discomforting to realize that as well as they knew Airwolf, the chopper knew them, as well. That quick response which Jo Santini had noticed was undoubtedly Airwolf's fledgling AI, already studying and adapting to the new occupant of the pilot's seat.

Caitlin drew a deep breath and fought to keep her voice steady as she spoke. "The Lady is nothing if not perceptive. Dom always swore she had a mind of her own."

Jo laughed. "He said that about every bird he ever flew."

Caitlin forced herself to chuckle as well, but her heart was racing and she felt the cold fingers of apprehension tickle down her spine as she stared at the soft green glow of the computer screen. Airwolf knew her, knew her skill and what she was capable of, maybe even better than she did herself. The Lady had recorded her stats, it knew her response time, could predict the way she would maneuver in a given situation and act accordingly. Over the years it had been a tremendous asset to her, making her seem to be a better pilot than she really was. But that was when the Lady had been in her hands. Now, she realized, what had once made Airwolf her biggest asset, could also be her biggest threat. If someone were to take her profile, to study it, they would easily learn her strengths and weaknesses in the air. She wouldn't stand a chance against them.

True, this was not what the AI's living memory had been designed for, but this was not the first time that Airwolf's technology had been perverted for uses other than those originally intended. And she knew that it was possible to extract this kind of information from the pilot profiles. After all, String had done it once himself, and then used the information to destroy the rogue pilot who had stolen the Airwolf duplicate the committee had built only a few months ago. It was possible, but was it likely? Would the Firm really bother with her once they had Airwolf back in their control? It seemed an impractical expense of time and money to pursue a woman who could no longer pose much of a threat to them.

_I prefer to take no chances where the committee is concerned. Michael's words echoed softly through her head, so clear that for a moment she thought she could actually hear the rich, whiskey tones of his baritone voice. It was sound advice, she thought, and besides, she wasn't the only one whose profile was hidden somewhere in the computer. There was Doc Gifford to think of as well. Much as it pained her, she knew what she had to do. She had to make Airwolf forget._

Her fingers were moving over the keyboard almost before she actually realized she had made the decision. She pawed for a brief moment through Dom's stash of sticky notes. _Dammit, what were the command codes for this? Suddenly recalling them, she typed in the string of characters and was rewarded with the root menu for the list of pilot profiles._

It surprised her to see exactly how many people had flown Airwolf over the years. Cross referencing the pilot profiles by date, she was able to locate Gifford's file and delete it. If Airwolf did fall into the Firm's hands, it wouldn't do at all for them to discover there had been a mystery pilot. After interminable seconds, the cursor flashed softly before her, a string of bright green letters announced:

PILOT PROFILE DELTA DELETED.

One down, one to go, she thought.

"So you never did tell me," Jo Santini's voice crackled inside her helmet. "Just where do you park this thing, anyway?"

Caitlin almost groaned. The Lair. She had completely forgotten about it. Bringing up the GPS system, she checked their coordinates. They were not that far away from it.

"Do you know the Valley of the Gods?" She asked, keeping her voice casual as she returned to the business of accessing her own data profile.

"Sure," Jo said, I used to go flying out there with String and St. John all the time. In fact, we were just out there last week." There was a pause as the realization hit her. "Oh…" she said softly, and thought for a long moment.

"It's in the Devil's chimney, isn't it?"

"How did you guess?" Caitlin asked in surprise.

Jo smiled sadly. "It's nothing ...just an old bit of nonsense between String and St. John, back when they were cocky kids. They were always arguing about who was the better chopper pilot. One day St. John said he could take a chopper anywhere. String dared him to take one down the Devil's chimney. He said it couldn't be done, but St. John did it. When St. John dared him to try it, String lost his nerve."

Caitlin smiled wistfully at the thought of Stringfellow Hawke losing his nerve over anything. "It's tricky," she said at last, "but it can be done –especially if you have Airwolf. I wouldn't dream of trying it with another chopper."

"And it's probably the last place on earth anyone would think of looking for a chopper," Jo said thoughtfully. "Once I land there, how do I get out?"

Before Caitlin, the computer screen spelled out its question:

DELETE PILOT PROFILE CHARLIE?

The green cursor blinked rapidly, demanding an answer. Caitlin inhaled sharply and struck the 'y' key. Then she allowed herself to answer Jo's question.

"There's a 4x4 Bronco just inside the mouth of the cave. The keys are in it. I'd appreciate it if you'd return it to the rental company for me."

"What about you?" Jo asked.

"Fly due west about four miles," Caitlin instructed. There's an abandoned military airstrip there. I've got another ride waiting for me."

Jo nodded and banked the chopper towards the west; never noticing as the woman behind her slowly removed her helmet and stared at the fateful words that crossed the tiny computer screen.

PILOT PROFILE CHARLIE DELETED.

It was over, Caitlin O'Shaughnessy thought. At least her part in it was. Whatever happened to Airwolf now, it was out of her hands and completely up to the pretty blonde woman who reminded her entirely too much of the person she had once been. The role she had played in this bizarre adventure had ended the moment she had struck the delete key. She might still be wearing the uniform, but she wasn't a part of the crew any longer. Swiveling around in her chair, she turned resolutely away from the computer and quietly consigned herself to the part of passenger. From here on out, she was just along for the ride.


	14. Chapter Thirteen: Wherever the Wind Blow...

Title: Wolf Hunt (continued)

Author: Lady Chal

Rating: PG-13 (mild language)

Classification: Angst/Adventure, Caitlin/String

Disclaimer: They don't belong to me, wish they did!

**************

**Chapter Thirteen: Wherever the Wind Blows**

The abandoned airstrip rose up out of the desert like an aviator's ghost town. Jo scanned the line of dirty, decrepit looking airplanes, none of which looked like they would ever leave the ground again. Most of them slumped on deflated, rotted rubber tires with odd bits of wire hanging from their wings and bellies where parts had obviously been robbed from time to time. The Stearman was among them, parked beneath the sheltering wing of an enormous C-130. Standing beside it, anxiously waiting, were the slim shadows of Li and Tet.

_So that's where the damned dog went, Jo thought, touching down a few hundred yards from the plane._

Caitlin made her way up to the co-pilot's seat as Jo powered down the engines.

"That's my ride," she said, placing her helmet on the seat.

Removing her own helmet, Jo shook out her ash blonde locks and then offered Caitlin her hand. "Good luck," she said, "and thank you."

Caitlin hesitated a moment, and then accepted the hand shake. Her grip was cold, but firm. "Same to you," she said quietly, "Though I'm not so sure you'll thank me once you realize what you've walked into."

She cocked her head to study Jo intently. "You really are gonna try to go after St. John, aren't you?"

"Damned straight." Jo replied.

"Just how do you plan to pull it off …if you don't mind my asking?"  
            Jo smiled. "It had occurred to me that if String could strike a deal with the devil, maybe I can too.  Major Rivers seems like a decent enough man –and an honorable one. He might be persuaded to help. And Jason Locke wants this helicopter so bad he can taste it. I figure I'll make them an offer they can't refuse. They can go with me, get St. John out and then I'll let them have the damned thing."

"And if they don't agree?"

"I'll tell them I'll blow it up."

Caitlin grinned. "Interesting proposal. They just might take you up on that." She arched one auburn brow. "Care if I make a suggestion?"

Jo shrugged. "Sure."

"If you do go with them, take the tactical position. The pilot may get all the glory, but the backseat driver can control the show." She reached behind her back and extracted the revolver, placing it in Jo's hand. "—especially if she's got a .45."

Jo smiled. "I'll keep that in mind."

            The hatch released with a soft hiss as the two women climbed out of the helicopter.

            "Li!" Caitlin called, "Get Tet in the plane and start the pre-flight. We need to get going!"

            The boy looked curiously from Caitlin to Jo. His features were patently Vietnamese, Jo thought, still there was something about him that reminded her of the Hawke brothers at that age. 

            "Who's she?" Li demanded.

            Caitlin looked back to Jo and hesitated. "A friend," she said at last.  "She's going to help String get your father back. –So let's get on the stick!"

            The boy nodded and called to the dog, boosting the animal up on to the wing of the plan as he struggled to get the animal into the open cockpit of the Stearman.

            "You haven't told him yet," Jo's voice was not disapproving, but Caitlin could here the question in it.

            "No," Caitlin smiled sadly. "I told him about Dom yesterday, and he saw the newspaper clipping about Archangel. I wasn't sure he could handle any more right now."

            She turned to Jo with a questioning look. "And it wasn't really a lie, was it? That bit about you helping String? He'll never get St. John back now, --not unless you do what you plan to do."

            "No," Jo said quietly. "It wasn't a lie. String started this and I will finish it for him. –One way or another."

            "Good." Caitlin whispered. "It needs to be over. We've all suffered long enough, I think."

            Jo nodded to the boy. "When are you going to tell him?"

            "Soon," Caitlin promised, "but not just yet. Not until we're off the Firm's radar and settled somewhere." She drew a deep breath, her lip trembling. "Not until we can afford the luxury of him hating me."

            "He won't hate you, Kate."

            Caitlin shook her head. "Yes," she whispered, "He will. I won't blame him for it, either. I already hate myself for this. He should have the right to say goodbye to String. We're taking that away from him."

            "The Firm is taking that away from both of you," Jo said firmly. "Don't blame yourself, Kate. Not for this."

            Caitlin nodded and stripped off her flight suit. Folding it neatly, she placed it on the co-pilot's seat and closed the door upon it. The soft hiss sounded oddly final to her ears, and she let her hand lay for a moment on the Lady's glossy black finish as she made her own silent farewell.

            "Take good care of her," she said softly, "and she'll take care of you."

            Jo was not entirely certain if the words were meant for her or the helicopter. Perhaps it was meant for both of them.

            "Are you going to miss it?" Jo asked, marveling at how this woman could seem to walk away from it all so easily.  Some part of her was still more than a bit surprised that Caitlin O'Shaughnessy had turned down her offer to fly after St. John.  She couldn't imagine refusing any opportunity to fly in this machine –no matter how dangerous it might be. This was an incredible machine, an incredible experience. With Airwolf behind them, how could they lose? Caitlin O'Shaughnessy was as much a fighter as she was, and yet …she was walking away.

            Caitlin removed her hand quickly, almost as if burnt, and turned her back squarely on the helicopter. "No," she said firmly. "I won't miss it."

            She smiled at the confusion she saw in Jo Santini's eyes. "I was like you once. From the moment I first saw this thing swooping down out of the sky, all I wanted to do was fly it, to be a part of it." She shook her head. "Don't get me wrong, flying Airwolf was the most incredible thing I've ever done, but I almost wish I had never laid eyes on her."

            She drew a shaky breath, and her voice, when she continued, was raspy and choked. "She gave me and she cost me all the things I loved the most. She'll do the same to you." Her smile was wry and gritty. "Never bargain with the devil, Jo. The price is just too high."

            Then, without so much as a backward glance, she stepped past Jo and away from the chopper, heading with grim determination to the tiny old bi-plane that held what remained of her future.

            Caitlin finished the pre-flight check and was relieved when the Stearman once again started on the first try. It had taken some doing to get it out of the muddy clearing by Doc's cabin, but with both Li and Gifford's help, they had managed. She saw the two carefully packed bags shoved beneath their seats and was thankful once again to the mild mannered mountain Doctor. After helping her stash the plane and dropping her off in town where she had rented the 4x4 to drive out to the Lair, he had taken Li and gone back to String's cabin. She still wasn't sure exactly how Doc had explained things to the boy –he probably hadn't told Li much more than she had—but somehow he had helped him oversee the packing of a few necessities, one of whom apparently was Tet. She frowned as she saw the dog wriggling eagerly in Li's lap. She hadn't planned on taking the dog with them, but from the look of stubborn determination she saw in the boy's eyes, she wasn't about to argue. He was leaving too much behind as it was. –For that matter, so was she, and she hated to think of the old dog lying on the lonely porch of String's cabin, waiting for a man that would not return.

            The thought caught her low in the pit of the stomach –she wasn't quite used to it yet—and she shoved viciously at the throttle, revving the Stearman's engine and moving the little plane slowly towards the open runway. Behind her, she could hear the low roar of Airwolf's engines increase in pitch as the great black helicopter prepared for take-off.  There was a time –not so long ago—that she would have turned her head to watch the incredible sight of the sleek aircraft as it rose into the air and rocketed away, but she steadfastly ignored it. That part of her life was over. She would not look back. Li, however, turned and smiled, waving over his shoulder to the shadowy figure in the pilot's seat. From the way that his smile broadened, she guessed that Josephine Santini must have returned the gesture.

            They lifted off at almost the same moment: the bright yellow Stearman heading east, into the approaching darkness while the black shadow of the helicopter moved west, into the setting sun. Caitlin watched the boy in the open cockpit in front of her, holding tightly to the dog, half turned in his seat to watch the helicopter as it disappeared from sight. His voice came over her headset, plaintive and hopeful.

            "Do you really think they'll get my father, Kate?"

            Caitlin paused, remembering the fierce determination in Josephine Santini's eyes. She realized, quite suddenly, Dominic Santini's niece was possibly the only other person on earth to care about St. John Hawke as much as String did. She was the only other person who loved him that much. And if love could work miracles, she just might be able to do it after all.

            "They'll bring him back," she said. _Or die trying._

            "So where are we going?" Li asked.

            "Flying, kid." Caitlin said, pointing the Stearman a little further south and riding on the edge of the wind. The plane caught the current and lifted slightly, slipping further from the bonds of earth and taking her heart with it as it did so. For just a moment, she felt the weight lift, felt her fears ease, and felt the old joy return to her as they rose upon the evening breeze. They were free.

            "Flying where?" Li asked.

            She let the slow smile spread across her face as she gave him her answer.

            "Wherever the wind blows."

THE END

….for now…


End file.
